i remember finding you that day. you were sick and wet and i was walking home from whatever it is i used to do. and you looked up at me and i saw you were so, so sad. so i took you in. its what anyone wouldve done. when my Mother found you, hiding in my room, wrapped up in my blanket, She didnt scream like i had prepared myself for. She didnt even seem upset. She sat me down, and She told me my heart was too big for my own good. that it was gonna get me hurt some day. that i couldnt find it in me to love every one who needed it.

i hope She's wrong. but i dont think She is.

but i couldn't listen to Her. so when She kicked you out it just felt like cruelty, like i had found this poor defenseless thing that needed love and She wanted you to just die. i think maybe She cared about you, too, though. maybe She knew it would get this bad. when i walk into this house, with its rotting walls, with its lack of love, with the trash piled every where, with God no where to be heard, i think She knew that you couldn't survive here. that it wouldn't be fair to bring another life into this place that will consume it, never spitting it out. we are going to die here. i hope you get to die with dignity, some place that can still support real life. some place where God might watch.

sometimes, when i forget myself, i wish She had put me on the street, too.

i really do think She loves you more than me.

i can't hate you for it.

i don't want to, at least.

it's not fair for me to say.

and God wouldn't love someone who could think something so cruel.