Why Should It Bother You?

“It’s not always rainbows and butterflies; it’s compromise that moves us along.” How much will I give up? Arranged marriages often lead to mutual love. I care. It’s impossible to live without hope. Your head is filled with phantoms and fantasies. Do you ever wonder what I hope for? I used to think you were a phantom keeping me alone, but now I see you are a wisp keeping me in hope. I feel my heart die a little every day. What is the difference between suicide and self-sacrifice? My Christian love duty. You are anti-Christian. I love you. I thought we agreed not to use that word. You both have an anointing on your lives. He will go insane if you cut him off. You need help. God loves you so much. We can be in the insane asylum together. I’ve already been there; I’ll reserve a room for you. That’s not something you should tell people. You will never love. You do not need to help—Jesus does. It’s him versus me—and you want me to trust? I’ll be here with you in spirit. A trail of destruction. Why did you come back? My hope is crumbling. You’re bringing me down with you. Hope floats—just beyond my reach. A man threatened to jump off North Bridge a few days ago. Every time I cross it I remind myself: “No, I can’t guarantee I’d die; the fall isn’t far enough.” I wrote a paper on a UFO suicide cult. You are unnatural. I suppose it’s my fault for being me. If you could be anyone, would you choose to be you? I’m stuck in a box of six “why”s. This too shall pass. Maybe I’ll feel better in the morning. Your message woke me up. I’m sure my phone won’t survive flying from North Bridge.