I’m beginning to feel some type of way again. The lonely that sneaks up on you in the midst of drinks and cigarettes and other ungodly things my mother doesn’t approve of. She prays that someday I will find god. I’d be closer to finding him if I knew what he looked like. Maybe I’ve passed by him time and time again at the corner store. Or even worse, maybe he is the guy I blew off at the bar because I wasn’t trying to get laid.