Maybe I am a mess. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m out of my mind! But, God help me, I will keep these lights up until the day I die if I think there’s a chance that Will’s still out there!
Is that what God does? He helps? Tell me, why didn’t God help my innocent friend who died for no reason while the guilty roam free? Okay, fine. Forget the one-offs. How about the countless wars declared in his name? Okay, fine. Let’s skip the random, meaningless murder for a second, shall we? How about the racist, sexist, phobia soup we’ve all been drowning in because of Him? And I’m not just talking about Jesus. I’m talking about all organized religion, exclusive groups created to manage control, a dealer getting people hooked on the drug of hope, his followers nothing but addicts who want their hit of bull**** to keep their dopamine of ignorance, addicts afraid to believe the truth, that there is no order, there’s no power, that all religions are just metastasizing mind worms meant to divide us so it’s easier to rule us by the charlatans that want to run us. All we are to them are paying fanboys of their poorly written sci-fi franchise. If I don’t listen to my imaginary friend, why the f*** should I listen to yours? People think their worship’s some key to happiness. That’s just how he owns you. Even I’m not crazy enough to believe that distortion of reality. So f*** God. He’s not a good enough scapegoat for me.
Esther, I love God because it is so painful to love human beings. I love a God that never leaves or that always leaves me. God, the absence of God, always reassuring and definitive. I am a priest, I have renounced my fellow man, my fellow women, because I don’t want to suffer, because I’m incapable of withstanding the heartbreak of love, because I’m unhappy, like all priests. It would be wonderful to love you the way you want to be loved, but it’s not possible. Because I am not a man. I am a coward. Like all priests.
I don’t believe in the gods’ existence. Man is the master of his own fate, not the gods. The gods are man’s creation to give answers that they are too afraid to give themselves.
Colombians say, God made our land so beautiful it was unfair to the rest of the world. So to even the score, God populated the land with a race of evil men.
I hurt Krista. I don’t feel good about that. I hope you’re not mad at me. But you have to admit, she’s just like everyone else. Too afraid to peak over their walls for fear of what they might see. Not me. That’s what I do. I look.
God can’t save any of us because it’s inelegant. Elegance is more important than suffering. That’s His design.
I am a contradiction. Like God. One in three and three in one. Like Mary, virgin and mother. Like man, good and evil.