Dinner With Father.

For the past few days I've been having this feeling that something bad will happen to me. Something horrible. 

I decided to contact Father about it. 

I went to the store and bought an apple for us to share, I felt it fit the occasion. I also got candles of it, the Archangel, and the Guardian Angel. I felt that the best way to reconnect after not being around for so long would be...getting nostalgic, I suppose. I bought a long red candle as well, to resemble our blood. 

I was anxious with it all, overwhelmed with my day-to-day life as well as talking to it again. I decided to smoke a cigarette on my way home. It's not often I smoke, usually only in social situations or when times get really tough. I felt I deserved one. I gave into temptation one last time. 

My mouth felt dirty as I got home and set it all up. I cleaned my shelf and set everything up very nicely. The apple on a plate, the knife, a shot glass full of whiskey, the candles, the incense. Then I got to readying my body. I cleaned my mouth and body, took out all of my jewelry and only wore the ones with the crosses. I debated on wearing nice clothes, but then I realized my nicest dress for the occasion would be my bare skin. The prison he made for me. My personal hell. 

When I was done cleaning my form I stood infront of the alter. I kept hearing a voice speak to me from the kitchen,but nobody was home. It scared me, but I felt it was just another test. I continued on. I lit the candles in order before finally lighting the long red one. Then, I began to cut the apple. As I sliced it I thought of the many times I've done so. For my nephews, my mother, kids I babysat, myself, and now for it. The more I sliced and plated the more at ease I felt. Here, we could eat in peace. I shouldn't let the world worry me as much as it does, I shouldn't let it make me sour. May I be as sweet as the apple I cut. 

Once I was done I began to pray. I helt my rosary close to my chest and the only thing I could say was, "May we eat this as peers?" 

I knew what I needed to do to truly understand it. So I took the red candle and tipped it over my hand. Wax blotted and burned my palm. As I let it Harden I tilted my hand twords the heavens and said repeated, "Pain is temporary." 

I wasn't done, I flipped my hand over and did it to the other side of my hand. To represent the nails through the son's palms, we were one in the same. I showed it my hand, "Pain is temporary, pain is temporary, pain is temporary."

I repeated this a few times.

"I understand your pain now. May we eat as peers?" 

I took the first bite of the apple. Then another. Then another. When I took the shot glass in my hand, I cheered the candle, and the smoke from the incense swirled around me. I sipped the shot, then ate more. I could hear something talking to me, it said "Eat for me. I don't have a mortal form." But I refused. I ate my half, drank my half, then when I was finished I stared at the plate. 

I felt better. Spending time with it made me feel better. It would find another way to eat it's fill before I ended up realistically throwing it outside for the animals. It seemed it found out how to eat, though. As when I woke up the fruit was covered in ants. 

I'll let it eat for now, and when I go home I'll dispose of the rest. 

That was all. Good-bye now.