Dear God,
It’s me. I’m on Annie’s couch in her bedroom. She’s in the front room watching a movie. I’m bundled in blankets, with my eyes, ears, and mouth covered so I don’t get sick. I started coughing a little around 2:00 PM—it’s 7:00 PM now. I took a Tylenol, and I just took some Green Gone Detox. I’m on day two of not smoking. I finished my last set of pills, and tomorrow I’ll begin the liquid detox as well. I know you probably don’t have to do both, but I just want to make absolutely sure I pass my urine test—whatever test they give me. I even bought an at-home drug test just to be safe.
And to take it a step further, I stored a tiny bit of urine in my fridge. I had one of the non-verbal kids pee in a container for me, and I cut a strand of hair from a Chinese girl in case they needed a hair sample. I know—that isn’t right. I just didn’t want to stress about anything.
When I told Erica what I did—getting a child’s urine and cutting a strand of hair—she stopped talking to me again. Erica came back into my life about a month ago after being gone for over a year. She tells me absolutely nothing about her life but wants to hear everything about mine. She doesn’t even ask—it just pours out of me. Mostly because I’ve never really had another woman friend except Debra. Erica is my age, but Debra is probably 12–15 years older.
Debra listens to me rant all the time too. Sometimes I secretly think they like hearing me rant because it reminds them their lives aren’t so bad. Long story short, Erica is gone again. Now it’s just Debra and Lucy. I almost forgot about Lucy. She wants to hang out—she’s wealthy and always invites me over. She’d be the perfect friend, honestly, but I’m too busy. Maybe one day Lucy, Debra, Erica, and I could all be friends—but only on my dime. They’d look like such an odd group together.
I’m too judgmental. I think that’s my problem. I overthink everything. But that’s eased a little. I feel myself maturing. Today, for example, I decided I won’t smoke weed in my car anymore. Did you know you can get a DUI for smoking weed in your car? I learned that today on TikTok.
I just coughed again. I’m wearing fingerless gloves to type, a Santa hat over my ears, blue-tinted tortoiseshell glasses, and an Adidas face mask. I’m also completely covered in blankets. I’m just trying to protect myself from the flu. Annie was in the ER two days ago and tested positive. I do not want to get sick over holiday break—that would be awful.
Annie’s mom and sister went to dinner together. My mom wants me to do that with her. I should, but honestly, I don’t want to spend the money. I’m the only one providing for myself—though sometimes my mom helps me. I’ve decided I’m going to take my parents on a Christmas hayride, or to the movies, or out to a nice dinner. I’m determined to start doing something special for them.
I want to be a different person. I started by getting a new phone number. I think I’ll turn my phone on tomorrow. I’m desperate for change. I’m quitting my job after Christmas break. I did everything the “right” way.
The principal at my school is a wonderful gay man. I usually feel uncomfortable around queens, but he’s different. He’s a true gentleman—well dressed, kind, caring, impeccable style, great skin, hair, and teeth. He’s someone I’d genuinely want to be friends with. He told me he used to be a wedding planner, so if I ever get married, I’m calling him. And the assistant principal, Mr. Johnson—they’re both so sweet. I’ve never loved my bosses before. They’ve never disrespected me and always treat me with kindness. I never forget kindness.
The same goes for Annie and her parents. I love Annie so much. I remember promising You that if I got this job, I would love her with my whole heart. This family doesn’t need my help, but working with them has opened my eyes to how many families aren’t as fortunate. I don’t know how some parents do it—especially parents of children with autism. I work eight to ten hours, and when I’m done, I’m done. I can barely function when I get home.
For a long time—longer than I can remember—I’ve been smoking nonstop. My lips are cracked and damaged, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Weed didn’t ruin my skin—just one pimple that’s healing. I even got a chemical peel, so it should be gone soon. My hair is really dry; smoking does that. But again—nothing a good hair mask can’t fix.
I just coughed again.
I feel like my cough won’t be an issue if I stay in a separate room and stay covered up. I think Annie’s sister is upstairs. I didn’t do anything wrong—just made a sandwich and took a hot bath. I don’t think they care. And honestly, they know I’d protect Annie with my life. A bath doesn’t hurt anyone.
My day was tough… but not really. I work as an aide for a 23-year-old teacher. She’s spoiled, but impossible not to like—so cute and sweet. She’s a Swiftie and knows every Taylor Swift song. She shared some with me, and music is the way to my heart. Her name is Ms. Daniel—my favorite teacher I’ve ever worked with. Hardest job ever, but oh my God, the kids. I love them so much. Even the ones who make me want to quit every day—like Malcolm. He’s non-verbal and screams and cries nonstop when he doesn’t get his way. Imagine that, all day. And when he’s not crying, he’s turning off light switches, climbing chairs, or running away.
There’s also Eleana—a tiny first grader who hits and bites me. She has the confidence of a six-foot soldier. I love her too. Amazing kids, all of them.
Ms. Daniel removed one student who constantly wanted to fight. He even slapped me once, and I slapped him back. After that, he clung to me. You could tell he really liked me. His name was Fabian. He was troubled. His father was deported. I don’t know how to feel about ICE or any of it—but I hope things return to normal someday.
I just coughed again. That one hurt. Please heal me, God. I want to do well in studio tomorrow, and I want my throat to feel better. I can hear Annie moaning in the living room—she’s so sick. Please heal her too. And please let her mom get some rest. She doesn’t sleep when her child is sick.
I always compare Annie’s family to mine. Her siblings are close. They have endless support—games, parties, everything paid for. My parents did things for me too, but it stopped around 17. After that, I was on my own. I’m 41 now, and finally more stable.
I have $20K in a CD and about $15K spread across four bank accounts. I don’t know if that’s normal at my age. I know people older than me who live with relatives just to get by, and others who own homes. Some work, some don’t. I hear stories of people moving to Hollywood with $100 and surviving—but I don’t believe it. Just like when women flaunt wealth from relationships—what’s really behind it is never fully revealed.
I just coughed again. And again. I really hope I don’t get sick. I feel out of it. I just want to go home and rest, but there are paint fumes there. I’m taking a deep breath.
Jesus, help me become more positive. I don’t want to spiral into sadness. I want joy. And I know real joy is knowing You. I believe if my relationship with You were close, I wouldn’t desire much at all. I want the kind of relationship where when I talk, I know You’re listening—and when You speak, I have no doubt.
During COVID, I met a man named Guy who was fighting lung cancer. He bought me a tiny diamond necklace that I wear on special occasions. I still talk to him sometimes. I say, “Guy, want to come with me here?”
Time has passed. I’m no longer in Annie’s room—I’m in my own. It’s past 4:30 AM. I checked Snapchat for no reason. I wish I had 12K viewers—or even 50K—instead of 50 to 100. I want fans. I want people to care about me and my music. Maybe I need to be more relatable. I don’t know. We’ll see.
I have a vocal lesson in the morning. The gym opens in 15 minutes—not that I’m going this early. I can barely do things alone. I don’t know why. I need help, but I don’t want people around for too long. I’m rambling now.
God, I don’t know what else to say. Right now, I don’t even know if You hear me. Please give me confidence in knowing that You always do. Help my dreams come true. Help me become the best version of myself.
I love You.
Amen.
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