Claiming a fictitious past. Finding a fictitious present. Praying for a fictitious future. You are the worst kind of liar. You don’t remember when you’re telling the truth. You say we have problems. Where were you? Where were you when the bodies dropped? Where were you when families were devastated? Where were you when the world went crazy? You were sitting on your swollen ass praying for your fictitious future. You are fiction in the midst of deadly realities. You speak of problems. You are the problem. God, where were you?