At times I’ve felt that if I don’t show gratitude, everything will be taken from me. I will have to suffer if I don’t show my appreciation for what I have. So I turn to the divine only when I need something.

My prayers have become support tickets I pay for with manufactured gratitude, and although there’s some truth in this gratitude, I’m still performing. I’m always trying to hit the perfect note so I can be rewarded by the one, almighty spectator.

I always hope I’m doing the right thing, or else I might get in trouble. So I try to help everyone I come across, and every time, I call you to ask if that was good enough for my reward.

But to my surprise, you say nothing.

So I try some more and then call you back,

Can I have it now?

…

Hello?

Are you even listening to me?

This goes on, and on, and on, until suddenly, I can’t do it anymore. It’s such a beautiful day outside, and I’m here sitting inside crouched over the phone asking for you to come save me.

Fuck that.

I want to go ride my bike to the sea and feel the wind run across my face while I listen my favourite music, and then later, I want to goto the movies, buy my favourite snacks, and sit there alone, finally at peace.

That’s real prayer to me.

If you want to come watch, you’re more than welcome, I’ll be in aisle four, seat twelve, at The Ritz.