I fell in love with God when I was five. I knew who He was before this, but until the day I fell in love He was just a friend my mom told me about, like Santa, or Peter Pan. I fell in love with God at the age of five, when my brother tried to commit suicide at the age of nine by playing tug-a-war between a jumprope and his neck. Thankfully God stepped in through my mom and I can safely say that I love my brother to this day. Even though he doesn’t believe in God anymore.
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I have loved God through every moment of the day, even when I thought God hated me for being a ***, or I guess a half-***. A *** in some way. The way that I thought I was gay but I couldn’t forget that gays were bad and that I still knew that someday I just might fall in love with the girl sitting in my English class, or the girl I went on three dates with and each time I saw her I realized I was smiling even before she reached the door. I still loved God even though people told me that a *** could never go to heaven, but I wanted heaven. It wasn’t until I prayed and prayed for months, and weeks, and days for God to take the bit of gay I had away that I realized I loved God and He loved me anyways. I don’t pray for my fagness anymore, even though I hear people say ****** and I hear the devil whispering my name and all I can say is “God, let me remember my true name which is love and love and love and love”.
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I’ve always loved God, but I’ve been ignoring His calls lately. He speaks to me late at night when I’m in bed alone with just me, my sadness, and thoughts that are very ungodly, and I hear Him whispering lullabies to me. There are many times when I tell Him to skip this song. My friends tell me God isn’t real, my brother says God isn’t real, the boys I kissed, and the girls I kissed say God isn’t real and I don’t know how to tell them otherwise. I don’t know how to tell them that God is right there and here and in my heart and theirs and that He loves and loves and loves and loves and loves.
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But then I finish writing up a letter I save for the times I whisper to myself that I want to meet God, even though God says His home isn’t ready for me yet, and I say “God, don’t worry I don’t mind the mess”. But He tells me it’s not the mess that He’s not ready for and I say God show me love and love and love and love and love.
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I shred the letter before I love and love and love and love myself to death.
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For God so loved the world and He loves me and I love Him and that’s love and love and love and love and love.