a prayer.

I prayed for you today. For the first time. I’m ashamed to say it’s the first time because I think you’d like it if you knew I was praying for you. Every day. Every other day. But you know me, I don’t believe in that sort of thing. You’re always thinking, “how’m I going to live?”, and so you always fight so hard to break free of your body, your history. I’m always thinking, “how’m I going to live with myself?” and so, me? I’m consumed with a ‘right now’ reconciliation between who I’m becoming and a fat, heavy world pressing itself against me. Resist the urge to conform, they tell you. To peer pressure, to the crowd. I don’t know how we shake it, how we stop asking these questions about living. How to stay a ‘self’ and survive, how to stay a ‘self’ and have peace. But I put my reconciliation aside today. I prayed for you. Deep, deep love will have you inventing a god and burning incense and scraping your pockets for an offering to save a worthy person. Did you feel my prayer? I said every word, thought every thought, schemed every scheme. Squinted eyes so tight. Called to a space where love and hope and peace might reach you over there on your funny little island. Did you feel it?