Dear Hearts,
I had an epiphany smoking my first cigarette and drink
coffee in my parents’ basement.
It all comes down to a simple fucking question.
Will My House make me happy?
No.
It will hurt to let it go, but it will not make me happy. I
loved the idea of it.
At 30, I swore I’d never attend another Catholic Mass.
I was certain I would never accept Christ as my Savior. Dead
Certain.
That’s who I am now.
I had a life that was “Supposed To Have Been.” My House is a
part of that.
How was that “Supposed To Have Been” Life working out for
me?
Here I am, Lord.
Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless
In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother
Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel
Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.
PS: I am not at peace with this decision. I want to be.
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