The Lies We Live

God?

"do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?"

In my experiences, God has a funny way of making his existence apparent in my life. And yes I do believe in God, not as a naive believer in all things that don't exist, but as a child that who can't stand to believe that all her pain is insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

This idea of God came as second nature to me. I honestly can't remember a time in my life where his existence was not imminent. But it did get to a point of overbearing. My parents weren't always religious. Only when they went to the holy land did they finally feel this rooted belief that we had to stop living in order to follow the commandments of God.

Since then, religion has been shoved down my throat and this irritates me because I didn't want to feel this way about my beliefs. After that, I stopped following everything set out for me because I was just so mad all the time. It was a pointless thing to do to myself, but I was in such a bad place that I felt that I needed some control on my life. Sadly, this is the only way I knew how.

It was only on the worst days, that I started to really stop believing, and I admit that I have strayed more than once, only to realize that there is no right path, only ones that are commonly used, and ones that have yet to be made. I see the debt on my father's shoulders, and the emptiness in the eyes of my mother, so it's only instinct when I beg God to kill us all. I don't believe we deserve this.

If he's left us, I want him back. If he doesn't exist, then I want him to. I feel like praying isn't working these days because the bad things are happening at a rate that that the good things are unable to balance out.

I cry a lot at night, feeling as if none of this is real. How could something as pathetic as my life, not be anymore that a fragment of some failed lab experiment. A half remembered dream in the chambers of memories that I'm trying to forget.

I've been to the mosque too. Call it desperate soul searching, a means to recreate yourself in a place where you come to slowly kill yourself off. The suburbs where you let go of dreams for safety and security. If that's how you want it to be. This place of worship, doesn't have God in it too. I can't feel it, like I did in the sacred place. I am not overpowered by the peace that overtakes me. Because I am still stuck with myself, even after I've detached myself from my entity, trying to find this higher place that will tell me I am meant to be.

I tried to be perfect, but i'm human. I tried to kill myself, but I was scared. It's hard to say those things out loud, where the wind can nip at them, and where people can scrutinize them. And God tells you this life will cause you a great sadness, what I never understood was the severity, and how even that, was not the same for everyone.

I still find myself asking why there's people starving, and my mom crying upstairs, even though I know I won't get a reply. Sometimes, on the walk to school, I don't look both ways before crossing the street. That car can kill me, I didn't want to live anyways.

And I know that we can't sit here all day complaining about everything we never got, we could spend our whole lives doing that. It doesn't change things. You going out there and making that change is the difference. But some mornings are hard to live through because you question why you're even fighting the battle with yourself to get out of bed. Afterall, surrender is just another way to say, I would, but I'm not dumb enough to fall for that.

We argue so much that anything is possible, but really, if you're barely making it on a day-to-day, taking meds to make sure you don't slip under the grip of the knife, that you so boldly hold tight, how is victory even attainable.

I mean, have you ever heard of anyone being "cured" from depression or anxiety? No, because this is something that lives beyond death. What a strange thing it is, to be wakened by the sight of a blade.

Despite all of that, there is a God, and I find myself questioning what is going on here. Sometimes I feel like the world is holding its breath. Waiting. For what I'm not sure, but I feel like it has something to do with me. Or maybe it's me that's waiting for a world that doesn't spin every time I stand up too fast. A universe where I meet people and they love me because they need to hear what I have to say, and they need to have my comfort, and everything I have to offer, even if it's not very much.

God asks you: "So why don't you think." And I do think, and I feel that that is what is tearing me apart. I want to do good and be good, but I need to stay sane for all those things. I can't deny the anger I feel, because I'm young, and I challenge corruption, and all the things that are not what they seem. There is no hiding the sadness. The tsunami before a storm, before a black hole pulls us all into non-existence.

Depression will find you, even if you change schools, even if you change your name. But most importantly, even if you change yourself. Sometimes, I'll be walking through downtown, and I'll be gravitated to giving money to the homeless, like it's my calling to give beggars some spare change and hope that they will find the happiness I have yet to find. I'll help classmates study in the library, even if I have other things to do. Even if if I need to write because I feel like I am dying, so I try to go back to the thing that makes me feel human. I will tell them everything I know and expect nothing in return. Because I'm trying to make up for all the days I've been bad.

All the days, I flirted with guys and called people names. If there was ever a sinner satan chose as his favourite, it would probably be me. I was so willing to destroy myself, doing good or bad, seems like it didn't matter which way I went.

I can't pretend to know what God has planned for me. And I can't live my whole life being afraid of myself. I can only exist, and that for someone, it is enough.