I’ve failed him, in life. I won’t fail him in death.

This is my world. You are my world.

I bet your parents taught you that you mean something, that you’re here for a reason. My parents taught me a different lesson, dying in the gutter for no reason at all. They taught me the world only makes sense if you force it to.

What we call God depends upon our tribe, Clark Jo. Because God is tribal. God takes sides. No man in the sky intervened when I was a boy to deliver me from daddy’s fist and abominations. I’ve figured it out way back, if God is all powerful, He cannot be all good. And if He is all good, then He cannot be all powerful. And neither can you be.

My world doesn’t exist anymore.