Why God needs to listen

Because I'm working.
Two jobs. Sure. Fine. Great life, eh?
No.
Sometimes I walk back and forth like a lost child in her own house. It's your turf and you know where the bedroom is, and you know how the living room is separated from the kitchen, but you always end up opening the wrong door. That's quite pathetic.

Because I go out.
Dating men.
I remember when I was in college, I argued with a batchmate (who, I believe, was convinced that I'm utterly hopeless). I said I don't believe in the courtship stage. Courtship in popular form, that is. It's a two-way thing. Whisper sweet somethings back. Invite him somewhere. Believe that there is such a thing as an "equal playing field."
But men can really be crazy. And I'm crazy.
The only ones worth investing time and "brains" with are the ones who can't seem to stay put. But then again, you can't ask what you can't also give.

Because I don't go home.
My family? Do they even know how much I want to spend a day, two days with them somewhere far. Where there's sun and empty cottages. Where there's time to spend laughing and making fun of each other.
Wishful thinkings.
I can't even smile when I'm around them.
Can I push myself to become a normal family member?
No. I don't know how.

I miss God. When it comes to Him, there's a safe zone for anything. I'd say sorry, of course. I've been ungrateful and have been a total whiner lately. I'd describe to Him how I always manage to close my eyes and shut my mind off from beautiful things.
He can come down and we could perhaps talk. In the flesh. Eye to eye. He could just stay still while I rant. I wouldn't mind.

And yes, I'd still say thank you.