God where are You? I am finding that You are so different from who I thought You were, and everyday’s trial gives me reason to continue in this separation and reaffirmation that I am indeed alone in my own futile thoughts and fruitless wars. It all terrifies me beyond what any soul can bear to feel, that my being built this sentence for myself- but that I truly could not have done any better or different. The more I observe and learn of this complex universe, what it’s all for, to where each circle back leads- the more I am displacing every belief I’d had and all the more convincing it is of not belonging. Who knew that hell had levels anyways, before descending into the next one, to an eventually waning surprise. Everything is falling through the cracks and slipping farther and farther away, and they can’t even see it. They see me here and they think it’s all just the same. And maybe it is, but I am not.
God where did you go? But it doesn’t work that way anyways, You don’t fix circumstances, You change our attitudes regarding them. But changing things isn’t even what You wanted from the beginning. You did everything to save us for eternity, but sometimes nothing can save us in this life because we’re all burning out fast; feeling it in my flesh and bone is sobering. But forever scares me and I’m not noble enough for the purposes of this life. I just wanted what I thought would make me happy, shallow and simple happiness- because nothing else feels good either. But obviously it’s not about that either. And the more I watch, listen, and understand- the more I realize that I don’t have any fucks left to give or energy to spend to someday pull someone out of a hole, because I guaran-fucking-tee there will simply be another hole to fall in after that. It seems that’s all the human race is about, helping eachother up so we can hurry on to the next burden. God, I once was someone who hoped in You, listened to You and followed Your direction; but now I feel a child of perdition to my own innate apathy I can no longer overcome. My own burden grows heavier by the day, and the knowledge gradually setting in that it shall never be removed lessens my will to continue to stand up. And You sent me so many people who tried to help, You sent me countless supernatural signs of which I cannot deny, and granted most anything I asked for but what I wanted the most- the one thing that has destroyed me from the inside out, driven a system into unavoidable isolation, and left me contemplating approaching mortality. I wanted to live and to love, but it seems I never will in any sense of normalcy or consistency. And it feels like the end of the world in more than the figuratively overdramatic sense.
The withered mountain grasses aren’t the only thing that’s dying. Maybe the intensity of the feeling is just because I’m involuntary off the medications I use as a bandaid for unavoidable fates- but then again, it may have been what caused me to start taking them all in the first place. Anything to get away from how depressing reality is. Honestly I’d much prefer to just keep myself indefinitely manic, because there are colors there sometimes, and before I was wired I realized that there are no vivid colors in this life without a chemical high. But those eventually go away too and you can’t keep running, as whatever you’re running from will circle right back to you. Because you can’t get away from these things, and I knew that all along but desired to bide any remaining time. But now it has run out. I thought I had found hope but it has expired and so have I. But God, I really am terribly grieved in my deepest heart You see for where I find myself, but no longer carry on in the same way on this path. For death would be much more favorable than to continue on the path that has been either sentenced or allotted to me. Yes I know how precious time is and how little of it we each are to know, but it doesn’t take so much of it to understand the order of things and to feel utterly misplaced and unqualified. But death is easy- though neither permitting any rest or escape.
Life is toilsome and admirable but nothing I find any iota of investment in. Many people they will go about and waste their lives laboring for what they will have little strength left to enjoy, fabricating meaning and fulfillment to support life being as it has always been through the generations. Of this I will have no part, nor could I if I had desired to. You have granted me the knowledge of many things I did not know, telling me both great and trivial secrets from youth, and in my long-standing solitude I believe have known Your favor and evidence more than most. But with this I can’t understand how You could care enough about the smallest most inconsequential details of my life, yet in Your perfect knowledge allow the debilitating and dominant parts to persist for so long as to render me irrevocably spent. I’m not so ignorant as to deny the continual suffering of others as well, mostly to those of much more admirable character than myself, and to wonder how Your care and higher purposes reconcile with our trivial and subjective suffering.
I can often be tempted wonder if we haven’t simply fabricated a God that makes us feel comfort or hope, when in reality God is who He is and always was long before any of us were a thought, whether we approve or see His actions as good or not- for goodness apart from a singular omnipotent being defining it- will always be merely subjective. So though the actions or allowance of God are not good in my account of benefit, it still is not only good but just. However I can only wish that I could too bring myself to feel that anything is indeed good, because my feeling that everything is worthless and what God allows is somehow unfair doesn’t change the truth- which is still true whether I can believe it in my heart or not. Regardless, I often think for what I have seen and been given that we are highly fortunate that God is not malevolent, in which the hand that none can turn back and the definition of truth or goodness would be ruin. I will never understand the workings of God or why He allows the unspeakable to befall so many, seemingly undeserving by the world’s assessment of it. So if this happens to the countless unnamed, that even so many children with scarce knowledge of evil should suffer, why should I ever hope that God would deal me much better than that? Why does God call all in His name children, but still leave some to die? No, I think their trying to encourage me is in vain.