Dear God of Nonexistent Things

You are the god that rules over unicorns, fairies, my literary career, and luck after all. How can I not believe in you?

Dear God of Thrift Stores.

Dear God of Thrift Stores. Holy Handmedown Lord of the Secondhand. I come to you impoverished and ironic to sink my fingers into your junkbins and sift through your innards. I come to you to make wholes out of incompletes, newandimprove a brokedownbeatup, to stitch together echoes. I seek you on red tag days when…