I was a Christian. Was. Emphasis on that. Now, not so much. Do I believe in God? Do you think a man can be prepped to have his life given to him, to have it ready for the taking, like a reward for surviving everything he has been through, and then have it all taken from him, denied, and given to one of those responsible for his torment, and not believe? You think he can start life out with a great family, supportive and understanding, then see it all fall apart and be put through one hell after another, and not believe? Anyone who would think I don't believe in god anymore has it all wrong: I absolutely believe in god. And I absolutely hate the ****er.
Early in my adolescence, I turned to god. I wanted purpose. Understanding. An end to my daily torment, a torment I still feel, even though one may not see it from the way I act here. What I got instead, for letting God into my life, was a war in which I still fight - against a tyrant, whose machinations and lies my own family fight to preserve; a Tyrant who dared to call himself my step-father. They see me as a volatile brute. One even uses me as a source of income, now. I am so easily overlooked, in favor of one of my own kin who was responsible for part of my pain. Few in this world ever understand me. Fewer still sympathize with me. None, to date, have ever done anything to end it. More than once, I was nearly driven to suicide. BY MY OWN FAMILY. By my own memories. More than once, one among this forum had to talk me out of it.
How does this have anything to do with my spiritual beliefs? It's quite simple, really: In my mind, even god himself is expected to protect his kingdom, not just his castle. How can he expect me to respect and worship him when I cannot count on him to keep me safe? Of all the ones who could have made a difference in my life, god could have had the largest impact. He could have done the most. And what did he do?
He did NOTHING!
Nothing but prolong my pain and suffering. Perhaps I serve God's purpose staying alive in spite of all this pain. But if God, a being of such vaunted and infinite love and mercy, is going to put his own people through such torment for his own ends, then I want nothing to do with him. In my mind, God is a Tyrant, like the tyrant who I still fight with. In my mind, God has repeatedly denied me peace, an end to my suffering. "Everything that god does he does because he loves us," it is said. Where is the love in putting a young, innocent boy through two families torn apart? Where is the love in him being harassed by his peers in school, who hated him for being different? Where is the love in having him watch as his freedom and independence denied to him, after everything he has suffered through? Where is the love in seeing him forced to live, separated from those who could possibly understand him, and maybe even love him? By whose decree should he be forced to live like that?
Who have I wronged to deserve suffering on a scale like this?
So many do not understand me, even nearly ten years after I tried to leave that world behind. How can they ever hope to know the threats I face, when they have never walked in the dark places of my past? Faced my war and suffering on such a scale? If they had traveled far enough, rather than waiting for the echoes to reach them, perhaps they would have seen my torment for what really is. Day after day, I am reminded how alone I am, because of the lies of my own kin and my own gullibility, to have fallen so easily into their traps. I am kept locked away from society because my mother sees me as a mentally-unstable psychopath, when the truth is quite the contrary. And I still remember what I did in 2012. December 21, 2012. The day that was supposed to be the end of the world. I watched helplessly, fearing the end. I was so afraid, I prayed to god to spare the world.
I shouldn't have.
I don't know if the world was really going to end then, but even so, I feel I should have let the world die. Maybe seeing humanity itself, whose members caused me suffering on an unimaginable scale, burn and die around me would have been enough for me, and when my own end came, I would have found the peace that had always eluded me. But no, I was afraid and prayed to be spared. And for once, I got what I wanted.
I should have died long ago, but somehow, I am still alive. And I will never again trust God. I want nothing to do with him or his grand master plan. I just want to be somewhere where I don't have to be afraid of everyone around me, where I don't have to be suspicious of their motives and where I can be myself without anyone labeling me for it. But as I have learned, God will never allow that.
I just needed to get that off my mind.
Topic: Rants: Everyday Venting (Read 171333 times)