Letter to a God I Don't Believe In.

Dear God,

I don’t know why I used to believe in you,

Yet of course I do, it was before I knew.

Knew what you do to your followers.

Whether they believe in one deity or several,

They’re like cattle or swine following their shepherd in herds.

I wish I could find the same sense of seemingly senseless faith.

But I can’t.

Maybe I tried to hard,

Praying for the lives of people I love,

Praying that things will finally look up,

But it looks like my life is heading downhill,

And I am Sisyphus trying to push it upward.

Maybe it’s because I’ve done the work,

Desperate people find faith,

But what happens when desperation turns into desolation,

And no calls are answered?

They keep their own heads above water,

They believe in themselves,

They believe in what they can see.

That is what happened to me.

So, I’m happy for you,

And your billions of followers world wide,

Who have found themselves as part of something bigger,

Who do find solace in your sermons and “supervision”

But you’re far from perfect.

You made us in your image,

Yet we have failed from the get-go.

Eve ate the apple,

Adam used and abused Lilith.

We were so unforgivable,

You flooded the world.

But you let us exist due to your kindness?

I find it disgusting,

Because if you are out there now,

Then you allow heinous acts to be committed in your name,

Islamic terrorists killing innocents,

Christian criminals committing hate crimes and stealing rights,

All because they believe that’s what God would want.

I hate how easily that is forgiven and brushed aside.

I hate how hypocrisy is legitimized.

I hate I hate I hate-

And maybe that’s why,

Why I know I’ll never be forgiven,

That if there is a paradise, I’ll never reach it,

And not because of my tattoos, drug use or sexuality,

But because I am filled with rage I refuse to release.

Because I cannot forgive nor forget-

That trans teens are living on streets,

That my father died when I was 18,

That good people die while evil ones remain,

Yet “everything is supposed to happen for a reason?”

I refuse to accept that you would allow it if you existed.

But I guess you really are the opium of the people,

Because so many people do choose to forget or neglect,

All because they believe you have a plan.

That suffering will be rewarded.

All without proof that you even exist.

Lest we forget you are a man made creation:

The seven deadlies contradict capitalist ideals,

The men with forked tongues who designed and perfected

Your cults are forcing masses into accepting the hand they get,

Puppets on a string, hoping that everything will be better after their life ends,

Why wouldn’t you want us to enjoy life while we are living it?

I refuse to believe in you, God,

I say this with my limbs constrained to a wheel, I am angry.

You and your wrath, you should be able to understand.

That rage is why I will never be a Buddhist,

Why I can’t subscribe to spiritualities where you’re absent

I’ll never be able to find myself as part of a whole,

Cuz I am a broken puzzle whose box you lost long ago.

But more than anything,

I hate that I have no right to generalize,

Because rage will drag me down to the depths

While so many people who love you are kind,

So many friends of mine have found your light,

So many people go out of their way to do good in your name.

But it’s looking at the good people who believe in you

Which makes me question what is true,

Because we are all made of dust and so many have failed at being half decent,

Maybe you do exist, but have corralled the best of us with the worst,

Perhaps you exist and it’s not a matter of whether or not we believe in you,

But rather you are the one who doesn’t believe in us anymore.

But I can do good without reason,

I can maintain my morals and my misery,

That is why I will not confess or beg for forgiveness,

Why I won’t dunk myself under and wash my slate clean,

I do not need to believe in a deity,

Because you could bring us together, but you tear us apart,

I will have no part in it.

I’m not to live my life for maybes and ponderings,

I am going to turn my hand into a royal flush.

And I will continue to question why I used to believe in you.

And maybe I’m wrong, but I’m going to believe in those who are good,

I’m going to believe in what I can see,

And I’ll try not to judge others for doing differently.

Yet here I am, writing about hypocrisy

When I too am just as hypocritical,

Writing about disgust and hate

When I am filled with the same,

Writing about their love for you

When I’m bitter about what I lack,

Writing about those who pray in good faith

All the while I am writing to a God I do not believe in.

Sincerely,

Me.