I went to Rome this year, as you know so well, cause I didn't stop talking about it for weeks.
You had already been there, but you still asked me questions about it. You're so nice. You're too nice.
"What did you like the most?"
I thought for a second.
"The Sistine Chapel."
You laughed.
"Of course, you nerd. Don't tell me: you spent hours looking at The Creation."
And you were right.
I spent the time I was there looking at The Creation. I looked up and the first thing I looked for were the hands - one of God, one of Adam - and then I thought about us. About how it's so easy for you to reach out, like God did, and for me to grab your hand. I know it sounds desperate, cause it is desperate, but I'll do anything and everything you want. If you want to be loud, scream at the top of your lungs; if you want to be quiet, I'll bury myself in your silence; and, if you want to love her and only her, I'll go back to being a stranger. Every single scenary is worth suffering through just so you can be happy.
I think that, in a certain way, we are The Creation. You're God, the Creator, the one that filled my dull life with light and love and rose me from where I was laying so low. And I, like Adam, couldn't get enough of it, so of course I fucked it up in the stupidest way possible.
I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm so sorry you don't trust me anymore. I'm so sorry I made you not love me anymore.
[Maybe you never did, but I like to think it happened. Selfish, I know.]
If I could go back in time, things would be different, I swear to you. But then again, I bet everyone says and thinks that.
I'm sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry. God, if You're there, if You exist at all, please tell him I'm sorry. He may not believe You, but I will.