When I was a little I would lie in bed and have conversations with God. They were actually more like monologues because He never answered. I would cry out to Him because I wanted to know what I had done that made my parents fight all the time. I begged God to tell me what I had done to make my daddy hit me and tell me what a disappointment I was. I loved my daddy and he told me he loved me but I asked God over and over how someone who loved me and who I loved so much back could hurt me as much as my daddy did. My cries went unanswered night after night but still I talked to God waiting fo
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