to whomever it may concern

You woke up today and without even thinking for a millisecond,
You took a breath. Raising your head off your stained blue pillow,
You fill your empty, lifeless lungs with sustaining existence once again.
Looking out the window, the first rays of dawn are seeping into your bedroom and
you don't give a damn. just another day.
You sigh and realize with every unthinking breath, you choose to constantly live.

It's an involuntary necessity of life.

Walking into the office, you cast a tight-lipped glance at someone that annoys you. That someone
notices of course. They ponder for 1 minute and 35 seconds about why you might hate them. Maybe
the look you gave was just . . . bad timing? Walking down the corridor to the lunch room, you see
an attractive coworker making copies. As if in protest, the thought of your spouse comes to your mind.

You fantasize anyway.

Its 4:30 pm and work is almost over. You decide to check out a little early and begin the brief walk home.
The air hits your skin and in response you look up. The sky is ironically beautiful in light of your mundane day. It looks like a half-done canvas waiting to become a finished portrait; a mass of blue sky, pink ambience, and hazy gold radiating off the fading sun. Thoughts of why you continue in this meaningless routine echo in your mind. This job is duty without pleasure . . . work without joy. Your head hangs low as you continue to walk. You keep your eyes fixated on the jagged cracks in the sidewalk. Memories of your life flood into your mind and play like an old-fashioned movie; black and white images of the past that won't stop moving.

You wonder what it is that has kept you going all these years.

You open the door to your tiny, one-bedroom apartment. The smell of chinese food mixed with Fabreeze overpowers
your nostrils. The apartment is empty, devoid of any intelligent life except yours. Everything is silent and still. . . everything, that is, except for you. You internally rage at whatever or whomever contrived your pathetic existence; if God created this, what the hell was he thinking? You would scream, but who do you scream at? You would curse at someone or something, but who is there to blame? All thoughts of God aside, you've chosen your own path and this is where it has led: a dying marriage, shallow friendships, and a job that makes you want to jump in front of an on-coming semi. Your face is hot from the building tears in your eyes.

You let them fall.

And it is at precisely at this moment that you turn against yourself. Every vile thought of contempt that you direct at others, every exasperating feeling that you've buried, and every despairing emotion that has stayed on the edge of your consciousness now crashes into your mind all at once. It erupts like a massive volcano that threatens to overwhelm you; a charging stampede that tramples you, leaving you in a heap of guilt and shame. This is becoming a daily routine.

A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts.

You hastily wipe your face and go to the door. As you swing the door open, you find yourself looking into the pale face of a young man about the age of 20. He has a name tag and tie on. He begins a rehearsed greeting and already, you aren't even listening. Before long, he starts to sound like the teacher off of Charlie Brown: "WaWaWaWa". You're trying to figure out what religion he is as you slam the door in his face.
You look over at the coffee table. Your eyes scan across the laminated cover of the book lying on top of it. A christian who works with you gave it to you to read. "The Shack", it's called. You started to read it and it had you at first. But when you got to the part where God was represented as an old black woman, you couldn't stop laughing. It was the most ridiculous thing ever. Sometimes religious people are so cheesy. You wonder (in some impossible way) if they are all related to Mr. Rogers. You wonder if they are aware that they are completely irrelevant to humanity. And if they are aware, do they even care enough to change? You just don't see the point.

You need something real. something you can relate to.
something that doesn't answer everything with gimmicks
and formulas, but makes sense of it all.
something that makes you feel alive.
something that doesnt solve all your problems
but helps you cope with them. something that
would for once give you some peace. something
that doesn't make you hate yourself but saves
you from yourself. something that doesn't just focus
on life after death, but life before death.

or is it even something?
maybe it's someone.
or maybe you're just all alone.