don't even look at me.

Dear you,

I have too many words and no one's feet to drop them at and I have too many dreams and not enough stars to tell them to.

And I'm not saying this in some metaphorical way. I literally mean I have this weird habit of talking to the stars. I don't even care if that's weird. They are great listeners and I know this is dumb, but the stars are way better listeners to me than god ever was.

But let's not forget about god. Because I always thought he was so lonely. This guy has to listen to all your shit and he has to somehow comfort you from this great big metaphysical distance and you get mad at him when he doesn't somehow comfort you over your minor, earthly, mortal bullshit? And even at four years old, I somehow understood all this in a much more innocent way, because I always remember my prayers starting with "God, please remember to bless yourself." and I remember being told in church that you couldn't start your prayers like that, because apparently you had to be more formal. But here's the thing - wouldn't you want at least one person to be your friend instead of your worshipper?

Maybe I'm just irreverent.

Which maybe is why I haven't voluntarily gone to church since I was at least seven years old.

The world isn't quiet and I never really thought god was, either. If god and mother earth are having a love affair, don't you think they'd make really loud, really beautiful love? And I mean the kind that makes you embarrassed and makes you sickened because it is so horribly gorgeous you can't even stand to look at it. That's the kind of love I think god and mother earth make, because let's face it, they're madly in love.

These are the types of things I'm thinking when my mother makes me go to church.

And I went to that BYU art gallery, 'Sacred Gifts' today with my mother and she didn't understand why I was snorting through my nose to hold in my laughter at the irony in how all these old dead white guys projected Jesus as this old dead white guy because of course they don't know what diversity is and how dare a holy being be anything other than as great as a white guy when Jesus was supposed to be this completely humble being so wouldn't you think they'd paint him as even a "humble" race? But have you ever seen a black Jesus?

I guess this is why I'll never be appropriate for church.

That and the fact that my friend has a Jesus statue she fist bumps every day, which I think is her way of praying and asking for his love. Honestly speaking, I don't see why we can't all fist bump Jesus. I mean, the man would have made a killer surfer with the whole walking-on-water thing.

I'm getting really irreverent here. I guess I'll stop.

I just don't want people to expect me to treat god any differently than I treat my own father. And I don't want people to expect me to conform to some sort of set standard that they have created in their own mind so they can be comfortable.

I'm sorry, but my idea of modesty is whatever I feel comfortable in, so please, stop sexualizing my body. Okay thanks, bye.

I love people and I hate people simultaneously. It's really hard to be a romantic and misanthropist at the same time.

None of this makes any sense, and I guess there isn't a point to this except that I had to get a few things out because no one gets it and no one ever probably will get it and I just don't have anyone to talk to anymore and I'm lonely and need a job and no one wants to hire a girl who looks like she's 14 but has boobs big enough to make Victoria Secret models jealous, and I just really want that goddamn stupid-ass boy to date me already.

Whatever.

I have new underwear, my gay boys love me, I'm never going to make the Dean's list in my life, I have three bookshelves worth of books, I have over 30 drafts on this stupid blog, I put flower crowns on my cat for entertainment purposes, and no one but my best friends give a shit about my life.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue