Tonight I come home and this house has a peculiar aura. Almost as if pieces of you are slowly fading away into some dark place I wouldn’t even find familiar anymore. No, I can’t say slowly, because it is perhaps anything but slow. The remnants of you are disappearing at a rapid pace.

At first I think I was hurt and angry and hoped that the fading would stop. It didn’t, and now I think perhaps I’m glad. I think I want you to go. I think I’m at peace with the fact that your memory in this house is fading to nothing, to no one. 

Just get out, I can’t take this anymore. 

When people ask me why I’m a christian, I say, “I follow Christ because if I didn’t, rather than being a broken and damaged person full of love, I would be a broken and damaged person full of hate.”