Dear God,

Hi. It's me, your one and only true caller girl. I know, it's werid, right?

Me dialing you up at 3 a.m. in the morning.

Oh, so like I'm Gen-z and we totally do not sleep this is no odd hour.

Anyway, I'm drunk, if you haven't noticed. Down two bottles of Hennessy. You know me, I never love the cheap stuff.

Anyway, my boyfriend/fiancé/sugar daddy/ 6-9 hookup-man-without-an-exclusive-title broke up with me. Yep. And that explains the drinking.

He said, and I quote-unquote, "The sex was good, darling, but na-ah, I am not here for the long haul."

Which is funny, right? Because that wasn't the same words he was saying to my face when he was inside me some few hours ago.

God!! you sure know how to make men. I mean, men are scum. Like, what were you thinking when you said, "Let us create man in our own image?"

I'm in trouble, though. Big trouble. And I guess that's why I am reaching out to you.

I'm pregnant.

I know, I know, I know. It was stupid to have stopped using the pills, but can you blame me? I wanted security and insurance. I just figured pregnancy would be the best way to, you know, get it.

I'm such a fuck-up.

 I am such a fuck-up.

I mean, after all that raving about not listening to papa Sunday sermons and avoiding the good old fellowship kids back in school, here I am, crazy hour of the day, with a cup full of pills, my Hennessy, and this cute little Gideon Bible in between my legs.

You know, and I just thought I could... run away from you.

I thought that I could swallow those pills and drown myself to my last breath.

But then I felt that I should, you know, quote the scripture like they do at those black funerals. And I remembered that Mama stuffed something in my bag when I was traveling. After turning up the entire house, which I might add, I would need to clean up the house ughhh, guess what though? I opened it.

You would not believe the first place it opened to.

Yes. I have read the story numerous times. Like, I have read it, I have heard it, I have...

But for the first time, it was like it was speaking to me.

Was it my story in the Bible? Because that would be some crazy voodoo shit, you know.

And then, what a foolish father that man was. Like, why would he take back his prodigal son? He spent his money. Do you get it?

Why was he happy to see him?

Why was he rejoicing?

You know what? Crazy.

Time out, time out, time out.

Let's have a mind wipe moment here, okay?

So, mind wipe.

But I thought this curious thing about you and your love is that, how can you love me despite everything, all my fuck-ups?

Like, it's not just reasonable, you know?

Even AI can't explain that shit.

And I couldn't wrap my head around it.

That is why I am talking to you.

I do understand something, though.

I mean, I just kind of, like, imagined it, and I thought to myself, imagine if I do give birth to this child.

I'm not promising, but I would always love her( I think it's going to be a girl)

I mean, no matter what, she's like me.

And I guess that's what you feel towards us.

" Oh, I'm so drunk. I'm so drunk. I'm so drunk" 

But I just want to add, for your sanity, that I have thrown the pills away, and I just might try to live longer.

And if it's not too much trouble, I would like to continue this late-night conversation with you.

You're good therapy.