LIfe after God.

Kurt Cobain is getting married. And I am not the bride.

My friend Dan says she is probably some crack whore anyway, but I know she is not. She is a French girl who does not wear make-up and who rolls her own cigarettes and then smokes them, without a filter.

I was prepared to travel across the world for him. She was French and had Paris, the city which he declared to be his favourite. He took his ex-girlfriend to Paris, I saw the pictures taken on the Eurostar. I haven't been to Paris. Should I say yet?
I was enjoying lengthy conversations with him, about God, and death, and absence of religion, and the way sometimes we both felt Holy spirit descending upon us and how amazing the world felt when this happened, and how you would feel your eyes swell with tears of happiness because suddenly you would feel alive, and able, and full of potential. Because God believed in you and chose you.

She was French and chose not to believe in God. And he, who I loved, chose her. I chose not to love him, tough choice. And I was wondering if I'd be able to stick to it. But do I have a choice?

I remember he told me she claimed to be scared to let God in her life. Scared to believe. I guess she finally got enough courage. Or he finally chose life without God.
Today, it's nearly full moon.