About that time that you met god at 3am outside a gas station:

He kinda hated you. 
Not that you’re particularly surprised, though you did think he might be a bit more sympathetic to your cause. To be fair, however, there are people dying in other parts of the world and you-

you can have anything you want,

although you’re still just as terrified that you will equate to nothing as always, regardless of the water running through the faucet and the roof over your head. 

Your pristine sheets seem to tell you nothing but of the ways in which your anxieties lie within them;

How dangerously they feed off of each other. 

I know you’re trying to remember a time before you questioned everything around you. I know that you’re wondering why you exist at all, and how in the world it’s possible to love nothing and everything all at once. 
To feel nothing and everything

all at once. 

Remember sitting in your childhood bedroom, illuminated by brilliant streaks of lightning. Remember the drawings you made when you had tried to capture the light within your notebooks. Remember how you couldn’t, and wonder if maybe that’s why you still see yourself as a little girl with brown hair, bangs cut above her eyebrows. Maybe that was the moment you started doubting yourself. 

When a little girl within a body that she cannot yet fill meets god in the middle of the night-

3am, to be exact, outside a gas station-

he might hate her and leave gut-wrenching words echoing within the deepest corners of her mind. 

she must learn to be okay with that. 

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