I wonder if I'm a fake athiest like CS Lewis, who does not believe that god exists but is very mad at him for not existing. I wonder if I am supposed to not feel upset by all of this- my whole life. I wonder if the abyss that I cover up with boys will change if I stop covering it up. I wonder if I need to wade through it like a swamp of muck. i wonder what to do with myself, and if I should write a book entitled "how we fell apart" and if savannah moving out of the house will tear me up inside. A rhetorical question.