Atheists Who Kneel and Pray

by Tarryn Fisher

Beauty was deceiving in the same way credit cards were. It felt like it was free, but there was high interest with little return.

I was a reactive person; it took a certain chemistry to lure me out of my shell. I didn’t like that he was doing it.

Once I’d set my mind to something I stuck with it. A determined loyalist even when it hurt my pride.

I was in the middle of an existential crisis and he was making me his person. How could he afford to be that honest? I was cheap. I fell for it because most of us just really want to be wanted.

Did she love me? I’d never know because I’d never ask. That was the thing about pride, it shortsighted our hearts.

His interest in me felt like a burden. If he dug too deep, he’d come up empty-handed.

It was awful to be this person, so jammed up with bad experiences you couldn’t let anyone see your real face.

She smiled. It was a condescending smile, not sweet or friendly. I spoke girl like a fucking boss, you know?

I was a passive aggressive coward. That sort of thing clung to your flesh like a smell, rot turned inside out. People could sense it on you; it caused them to be distrustful. It was hard to make friends when you had the smell, hard to keep them when you did make them. You held back from them and they held back from you, an even trade of nothingness.

I’d replaced wanderlust with a human. That was a terrible mistake.

It was a little thing, like a pebble in your shoe. Sometimes you knew it was there and sometimes it moved out of the way of your toes and you forgot. That was Petra and her presence in our lives.

I wondered if it was genuine or if he was faking like me. Everyone smiling like we weren’t all dying of our loneliness.

“If a man introduces his male friend to his extraordinary new girlfriend, his friend will think—I want a girl like that. If a woman introduces her new boyfriend to her female friend, the friend will not think—I want a man like that, but rather, I want that very man.”

She didn’t care what you thought about her, she cared what she thought about you. She wouldn’t let you in just like that. You had to prove it.

When you set out to find someone, you don’t stop until you do. And then you have to deal with what you find.

Tigers don’t make sense in a zoo—they conform to the zoo, but they don’t make sense.

She wants me to recognize her—she wore that dress so she’d have a better chance of it. Women use their bodies like weapons.

I remember feeling panic for her as she walked down the aisle, even though she didn’t feel it for herself. How did she know everything would be okay, that he would take care of her, that she’d remain herself? I know now that she didn’t, that love was a leap of faith, and that love was just a word until someone gave it a definition.”

Understanding comes with knowledge. Knowledge comes with time.

It’s not true what they say, that you can only give your heart away once. That’s the philosophy of the young. The old know better, they know it’s not the heart that you give away, but the mind. Fuck…shit…the mind is a powerful thing. It controls the heart, but most people don’t know that.

We stare at each other for a moment, the Dirty Dancing soundtrack is playing and I feel like I should be carrying a watermelon.

When people come looking for you they want one of three things: closure, revenge, or money.

I want to have a fucking Christmas tree and Easter ham with you.”

He’s different. I suppose that happens after people are apart for a length of time. They become more themselves while you cling to who they used to be.

Yesterday I bought a paperback from the corner shop and wandered around with it under my arm, intending to find a bench where I could read while I sunned. There were plenty of benches, plenty of sun, but I kept thinking there’d be a better option if I walked a little bit further. Before I knew it, I’d walked four miles and the sun was dipping low in the sky. I missed my chance and I never found a bench good enough. Hey, girl, hey—you’re an asshole. It’s good to know these things about yourself so you don’t go around blaming others for your fuckups.

“You young people treat love like it’s an accessory, not a matter of life and death. You’re amused by it, in love with the idea of it. You make all of your songs and books about it, but don’t know how to live it out.

Hearts are wild, uncontrollable things, you can’t just instruct them.

I used to think that loving someone split you in two: the person you were when you were alone, and the person you were as part of a team. I held things back from him thinking he’d not want me as I was, and as a result, I always felt trapped beneath my own skin, never fully able to be myself. I am myself now, and I don’t care who sees that.

I gave all of David up. I have no right to ask anything about his life. I am emotionally homeless, pandering for his attention.

“I never went looking for love,” he says. “I didn’t know what I was missing. I had women who I thought I loved, who I spent time with, who I made love to. It all felt good until you came along. Then those encounters didn’t feel good anymore. It’s like living by a lake your whole life and then being taken to the ocean.”

It feels better to speak in metaphor, easier. It’s saying the truth without actually saying the truth.

I’ve always been the one in power just because I cared less—or let’s be honest—pretended to.

I don’t care a thing about what bad people can do to me. I care about what good people can do.

“That’s good. You don’t forgive because they deserve it. Most of the time they don’t. You forgive to keep your heart soft. To move forward without bitterness. Forgiveness is for you.”