Are you there God?
Are you there God?
I know we haven't spoken before...sorry about that. Still skeptical about your existence and all. I am writing this to seek your guidance...I just need someone to talk to. I haven't been doing well lately. And please don't judge me. I have no one else to turn to. Everyone else fills my head with noise.
I was once human. Once beautiful. Once brimming with awe and wonder. I don't know who I am anymore, nor do I know what I have become. Your bright, shining stars now spell out the harsh indifference of your universe. Where am I to look for solace if even the night sky has betrayed me? How am I to believe I am still human after my morality rots into something grotesque? Something unrecognisable. Something far from what you have intended me to become.
Too many emotions bounce within the confines of my mind. Too many voices demand I do their bidding. Too many eyes scrutinising my every breath, staring down at me like an insect. I am a maggot squirming in my own filth, breathing in guilt and shitting out remorse. I am no longer beautiful. I am no longer free. I am a prisoner of my own undoing. I don't want these feelings anymore. Please make it all stop. No more fractured soul. No more past lives. Please.
I used to think that I was composed. Someone with an unwavering moral compass. I led life with a simple philosophy - to do everything in my power not to inflict harm on others. It was my calling. My unyielding shepherd guiding me through tangled masses of teeth and tongues. We were symbiotic, and we were invincible. But my shepherd is only human, and I fell with him.
It's a cruel thing about how you designed falling. We are led to believe it's the fall that breaks us - the descent into an instant vacuum of dread and chaos. But it is the landing that inflicts pain. No one ever talks about the landing. No one speaks of the blood on your hands, warm from the suffering inflicted on those you care for the most. They only remember the screams and cries. But when the dust settles and the music stops, you are left in silence, solitude. Again.
I just don't know what to do, God. Why do I keep messing things up? My mind used to be an endless stream of color - now a cavernous blackness stirs, dark and repulsive. Only gray lives thrive here now. Gray, ugly lives. I beg you to take away my capability to love, for I am too careless with its power. Remove the human illusion of hope so I can prepare fresh tears and embrace the inevitable in its merciless glory. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I am depraved and corrupt. My head is an animal, and it grows hungry. Starve it will you, God? Keep it away. Serenade me in your glory, and let me be reborn. Your womb is my haven. Let me in.
But perhaps I ought to take a step back and reconsider my proposition, for your prettiest flowers wear a veil of thorns. Tell me, if you are my supposed creator, are my flaws an oversight in your divine blueprint? Are my faults even my burden to bear, or did you forgo that responsibility because they are too trivial to be yours? You left me capable of grief for those still alive. You left me helplessly hoping for past versions of myself, hoping for nights before we met. Before all the hurt and agony. Omnipresent. Obtrusive. Obsolete.
And after all these sleepless nights staring down the alleys of introspection, I realise that this indifference is soothing. A cold, comforting epiphany. My thoughts are mine to manifest, and my emotions are mine to control. I don't need your intervention or forgiveness, for I will make peace with the ghosts floating behind my eyes on my own time. My own sweet time.
I will bend and break every bone in my body, and mold it back something worthy. Something recognisable again. Something almost beautiful again. I will walk till I get there, till the earth beneath is stained red and the sky a melochonic blue. You can take my hand, but please don't say a word, for I have seen what I must do. What I must become.
I am my own salvation. I am my own reckoning.
And I will be free again.
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