Sometimes, I wish I believed in God. Not so I can have something to look forward to when I’m dead, but so I could put so much faith into something. To see such love and devotion for someone they have only read about in their holy books, it is quite simply: amazing.

Sometimes, I wish I would have gone to see my grandmother when she passed away. Maybe then my mother would be able to look at me.

Sometimes, I wish I could pack up and go away for awhile. Not forever, but for awhile.

Sometimes, I stay up wondering if this will be my last night staring at my ceiling.

Sometimes, I regret being born. Then, maybe my mom would be happy, and with my dad.

Sometimes, I want to call my dad. But then I don’t.

Sometimes, I want to cry.