Writing One Page at a Time
Again, I came to you with my heart yearning for your love. I feel even more empty, even more cold. The waving rays of light from the sun do not feel my soul with happiness or warmth. Countless times I have beeged you to answer me, to show the way. The orad of faith is dark and the only light comes from within me… it’s been growing more and more faint each day.
Save me from this bottomless pit of dank, dark depression. I want to be me again, to feel love, to laugh, but I can’t. If you would just tell me how, tell me how to walk without fear, everything will be better.
If I hear another “footprints in the sand” reference, I might snap. IF you truly walked with us, then why are there suicides when things become to rough to bear? So many thoughts rush through my mind and I’m not afraid to place them on you. My faith is not shaken my faith is questionable, as all facets of life are.
In my opinion, belief in you or God really doesn’t control my afterlife. I do. You taught me the world is full of people who will never understand individuals. Church is for those people, not for me. I realized going into to church makes me one of the people who condemned you. They meet publicly, not privately. Their temple is the church, mine is my soul. I know that, but do i have to really believe in something that never calls, never answers, and never gives me the satisfaction of existing or not.
No, I make my own decisions as of now, and right now, I decide to just question you each and every day. I will tell you what I have found to disprove your existence.
PS If you loved me, you’d stop me