Atheists Who Kneel and Pray

by Tarryn Fisher

I loved the arts, all of them. But there was a common denominator in all messy, good art: an uninhibited wildness.

When I left, I had just been one of his heartbreaks, not his first. The first was powerful; it changed you. My own had been so devastating, altering the way I looked at men and love. And it wasn’t something that just wore off with time, returning you to your previous state of belief. Once you lost your faith, it was gone.