dear girl with only one favorite,

you haven’t officially met me yet, but i am confident i know your heart better than anyone. i’ve read about your uneasy life pounding hard from your fingertips, spilling forth words and poetry that reminds the soul how to feel; the stomach to ache; the heart to skip. you’ve trusted me with your deepest secrets, the hardest hurts, yet i see no scars. only mercy. you make me want to fight for the blameless love that flows from your veins, defend it as if it were my own; as if my heart beats because yours beats too. but i am just a man, lost in a sea of many. can you even see what you’ve done for others? because i can from where i stand.

i see love.

relentless love.

which is everything i have to give you in return.

MAD.

a letter to my wife before we met in person. originally published by thedailyletter.com in 2011

I no longer know what it means to be a Christian.

While everyone, everywhere else was going to church this past Easter Sunday, I intended to stay in bed eating marshmallow Peeps, and perhaps starting work on my new screenplay idea starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, James Franco, and Ryan Gosling. I could have finished it that afternoon too. My pitch is the three of them standing around, dressed well, smoking cigarettes, and squinting. People will tell you to write what you yourself would read or watch. I’d watch that.

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Dear 2011,

You remind me a lot of Kim Kardashian. And while this may be the perfect poison for a particular crowd, I’m still a little upset that Barnes and Noble lets a book authored by her sit on their fiction shelf while if I want my fiction read there, I have to print out PDF copies of my book and leave the loose pages in the cafe for random customers to find.

You were no good to the likes of Kim and Chris or Ashton and Demi, and even Price William doesn’t wear a wedding ring. You made marriage look as easy to get out of as it is to change your relationship status on Facebook. At least we’ll always have Edward and Bella to show us what teenage angst and lust would look like if we were all damned to it for eternity.

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Dear Christianity.

I’ve known of you my entire life, but I never got to know you until recently.

I’m sorry for that.

In Vacation Bible School you were fun. If I knew enough about you, if I memorized enough verses in the Bible, I got stickers and candy.

I knew that the B-I-B-L-E, yes, that was the book-for-me.

You’ve been around all along, but when I started to get a little older, I based what I felt about you off the opinions of others. Because all my friends couldn’t be wrong.

Christianity was a religion for the weak.

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Dear Rob.

I hope that greeting doesn’t offend you. I don’t know you that well, but you seem like the kind of guy who doesn’t want to be called, Mr. Bell.

Has a crowd ever chanted, “Bell will burn in Hell” when you walked by them?

I guess the jokes on them if there is no Hell.

Kids used to call me Maxi-Pad on the bus. I’d like to say those days are behind me, but some adults still say it like they came up with it.

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I know what this is going to sound like. You already know it all. Surely you’re wiser in your youth than I could ever hope to be in my old age. I wouldn’t have listened to my father. Just as I am sure he didn’t want to listen to his. I was terrified of what he may say if he called me into the room when my sisters weren’t around. Terrified that he knew my secrets; that he may dangle them over my head, waiting for the perfect punishment. I was uncomfortable with myself. He was the man I looked up to. And men did not speak of these things they struggled with: women, overwhelming lust, and a desperate need to find their place in this world. I was ashamed. I believed I was alone.

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Dear America,

It’s been a hard day, and all I want is a cigarette, but all I’ve got is this stale cup of coffee and a Bible in front of me so you might not like what I have to say.

Where has your faith gone?

Where has my faith gone?

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Dear 2010.

No matter how I do this, you’ll still spread rumors behind my back, making me out to be the bad guy when you tell all your friends.

I’ve found a new year.

Not that you haven’t been good to me, but I can’t stay here any longer.

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