Dear God
© 1998
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Dear God,
Hey, it’s me, Jamie. Again. You know, the short, scrawny kid who plays center on the football team. Yeah. Well, look, God, I need your help. I know I don’t go to church but like once a year, but you must know who I am, right? ’Cause you know everything, right? Okay. Okay, then. Listen, God, I need something. See, this dance is coming up and I really want to ask this girl. But I don’t know how to, and I don’t know if she’ll say yes or if she’ll just laugh. But everybody’s going to this dance, God. Everybody. And if I don’t get a date I can’t go. Well, I could, but I’d look stupid with no girl. So anyway, this girl, God, her name’s Laura, she’s in my math class. I really like her and would like to get to know her better. But she’s so pretty and stuff, so I don’t know if she’d just laugh or if maybe she already has a date. I think if I went to ask her out I’d chicken out at the last minute and not be able to ask. If I knew you were helping me, God, I wouldn’t be so scared and I might be able to say something. Right? So will you help me? Aw hell, you never answer anyway so why do I even ask you questions. Are you listening? See, there I go again. I’m asking you questions and you never answer me. I suppose maybe if I prayed more you’d answer more of my prayers. That only makes sense, right? Okay then. I still don’t think you can hear me. Are you there, God? If you are, I really want your help with Laura. I really really really need her to say yes, God. I really hope you’re listening. Can you give me a sign or something? It’s raining outside now, God, if you make it lightning when I count to three I’ll know you’re listening okay? One, two, three…four, Goddamn it! Sorry, I didn’t mean to curse or anything but I really wish you’d make it lightning just to show me you’re listening. I really need your help God. So please will you help me? If yes then make it lightning on three, okay? One, two, three…you’re not listening are you? Maybe I’m supposed to take it on faith, huh? You’re really big on faith, I’ve heard that about you, God. I know what’s up. I’m smart. I don’t think you’re listening, God. I dare you to kill me. Right now. Make lightning hit me. Ha, I thought so. You don’t exist, do you? Then who am I talking to anyway? Goddamn it. I knew you didn’t exist all along. All those times I prayed for a touchdown or for my team to win or whatever you didn’t listen. I thought before maybe you were just too busy to bother with my little problems but you’re GOD, right? You’re supposed to be able to do anything. If you really exist and you can’t pull off a touchdown for me every once in a while you suck as a God. We should vote. I would appoint my friend Jeff’s dad as God. Jeff’s dad is cool and he cares about football and you don’t. He’d let me go out with Laura. Hey, I just thought of something. Maybe you can help us but you won’t, right? Maybe you CAN do anything and you just choose not to. Is that right? If I’m right make it lightning on three. One, two…that was too early, God. But I guess I must be right, even if you didn’t answer me and you can’t hear me right now. It would only make sense that you wouldn’t grant everyone’s wishes ’cause then everybody would depend on you for everything and never get out of bed and sit around wishing for you to grant them breakfast. I won’t be like that, God. I get it now. I understand why you didn’t help me in football. I think it’s because the other guys and their dads were praying for touchdowns for THEIR teams too. So you have to be fair and just let us do it by ourselves. Right? If that’s right I understand, God. And I can ask Laura out tomorrow. I don’t really need help. But thanks for listening.
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