A letter to God

Sometimes I miss talking to you. 

Sending you my prayer.

There'd be a few things we'd talk about, if we still had contact.

I'd tell you about "Boots of Spanish Leather" and how it sounds like "Girl from the North Country" but is so much more beautiful.

I'd ask you if Boots of Spanish Leather was not originally his.

Because you know everything.

I'd tell you about how tired I've grown. How tired I've grown of this life.

I'd tell you about how I've started to read more books again.

How I've grown tired of social media.

How I love reading books.

I'd tell you how last night, I stayed awake until midnight and couldn't stop reading Graham Greene's "The End of the Affair".

I'd tell you how I miss friends who live in the same town. How I don't get to meet them because I'm so tired. 

I'd tell you about finally meeting my friend, looking at him and feeling like I'm missing him, even if he's standing right in front of me, talking to me.

I am so tired.

Sometimes I feel like I'm looking at the world through an aquarium.

And then, I sleep enough.

But I feel so tired. And melancholic.

Sometimes, I wish people would talk to me. But then, I wouldn't know what to tell them.

My friend asked me, how are you doing? And I don't know what to answer. I just shrug. He asks again. I shrug. And he grins.

Sometimes I miss talking to you.

I would tell you how sad I feel.

I would ask you, is Israel really your chosen nation?

Are you for real?

Weren't you Palestinian yourself?

Didn't you grow up in Palestine?

Aren't the Palestinians your chosen people?

Why are you forsaking them?

Why?

Why?

Why?

I have grown so weary.

I miss my friend.

I miss another friend.

I miss friends that are not there.

I miss friends that are there.

But if I'm really honest with you, dear God,

I don't miss you.