Dear Creationist,

I’ve been watching you from afar and can no longer keep it my dirty little secret. I am profoundly, unabashedly and forever in love with your brain. My friends tell me I’m crazy. They say I’m infatuated. They say it’s just a stage. They say I’ll get over it. But I know what I believe and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let someone present a mountain of evidence against my purportedly irrational belief in our everlasting intellectual and spiritual bond. It’s finally time I told the world how badly I want to make slow, rhythmic love to your innermost mental processes. How I want to press myself against your unfaltering confidence in absolute truth and rid myself of the shackles that are my rational thoughts.

Remember that day in the park last summer? The sun was sinking into the trees and casting its incandescent glow over your perfectly designed, intelligent face. I was distraught because I ached to understand the mammoth complexity and enormous timescales involved in something as simple as the sun shining through your tightly wound curls. So many lightyears of vast, empty silence. So many atoms intermingling in a million different ways through space and time. So many creatures perishing over the millennia to enable us to sit together and stare into the rays of light. So many stars exploding, continents shifting and seas teaming with life. So many steps onto land and useless adaptations lost in the void along the way. I lost myself in the terror of so many questions with complicated and incomplete answers.

And there you were. A glorious beacon emanating a simple, all-encompassing truth. You explained the earth was but thousands of years old. That we had been created in the image of an all powerful being as masters of this world. You reminded me of the sheer folly that was hundreds of years of scientific discovery conducted by hundreds of thousands of individuals around the globe. All those gaps in the fossil record, all the misunderstood leaps and bounds between the animal kingdoms of the world. You showed me the alchemy that was evolution, denouncing its flaws and demonstrating in the process the immaculate beauty of your critical mind.

Forget those thoughts, you murmured, for they are hobbled by uncertainty. Have you ever seen evolution happen? How absurd to think that life proceeds by random chance over the course of billions of years, adapting to changing circumstances in what amounts to a cosmic theatre of death and rebirth. Natural and sexual selection were bad jokes that left an acrid taste in my mouth that only your words washed away.

And wash away they did. As the sun’s last rays dyed your hair a deep crimson in my perfect eye, the cumbersome reality of my world yielded to a single, seductive truth. How could I have believed when there were so many pinpricks in the endless ocean of painstakingly collected data? You demolished my argument by pointing out the missing shreds of evidence and pronounced the timeless truth of creation on the basis of faith.

And that’s when I knew it. I knew that I loved you. I loved your resolute belief in the laws of your elders. I loved your ability to evaluate one system with the highest standards of skepticism and scrutiny while abandoning all critical thought when assessing another. I loved your facile understanding of history that condensed so many struggles into a tantalizing narrative of human eminence. I loved your conviction that we were the be all and end all of it all. But more than anything, I loved the soft contours of your exquisitely designed skin, under which your heart beat in flawless unison with mine throughout eternity.

Forever yours,

Noam Everest