Sunday, October 10, 2010

Perfect Blue Buildings

It's 2:26 am on a Sunday. It doesn't get much worse than this. Feeling lonely not because of someone but because of everyone. Because I am existing in this body alone. Because I cannot share space with anyone. We have to attempt to understand each other from a minimum of inches apart. And then we say goodbye, put our clothes on, hang up the phone, drive away, go to sleep. I don't feel lonely when I run, but I can't run always. And I think everyone has a lonely bone in their body that breaks over and over, but we submerge the pain in music and other people and fast cars and kisses and drinks and the Bible and cigarettes and anything that takes our mind away from the pain of a bone that cannot be reset quickly. My bone has broken. I think I'll be fine.

To recognize loneliness is to treat a sickness with medicine. It unmasks the power hidden beneath the uncertainty. I'm sorry if I have teenage angst. I don't know how to handle the possibility of God and all the implications with my overwhelming apathy. I haven't gotten used to the way life decides to get up and leave and I'm running down the driveway screaming because the suitcase of my memories and happiness is in the back seat, riding away. Yes, everyone goes through this. That doesn't make this less painful. I sit alone in my dorm room, wanting to go to bed or heaven or the spring of my freshman year. Life goes, and I have no one and everyone that shares my broken bone.

God, if you are alive and working, I know I don't have it rough. Fuck it, I passed the limit of humility and downplaying my problem. I am lonely. And what do I do about a god who comes and goes, and I am left with a book and people whose beliefs I don't trust, what do I do now? I will not love you out of guilt. I don't know how to love you. Why would you create people that have the capacity to be this lonely? I'm starting to think that I wouldn't believe in you even if you sent an angel or Jesus or some sign. I'm doubting my capacity to believe.

God, every church phrase makes me cringe inside because they are all so cliche. Instead of asking to melt a heart of stone, I'll try this: God, I don't feel anything in regards to you. I have hatred and annoyance with traditions that are associated with you, but I have no idea what you look like. I don't believe that the churches I've been a part of are anywhere close to portraying an honest picture of you. I'm so confused. And I don't have any motivation to go find you. How's that? I don't want to find you because I was told to. Fuck. It's true. And I don't like the image of whatever it is that I was told to find.

It doesn't seem like life gets better than this, or so I'm told. I'm really doubting that life can be abundant, or at least that abundant life is worth its reputation. What were humans made for? What is our purpose? Our own enjoyment? The helping of others? Giving until we have nothing left? Taking until we can no longer take? Neither of these sound satisfying.

All I know is that I never want to be part of Christian culture. I won't be able to stand the next time I hear someone say that we keep our minds pure by not watching "bad" movies, listening to "bad" music, reading "bad" books. Fuck that.

Why do I have all this inner rage? Where does it root? I guess it roots in my parents and their suffocation of my identity with Christianity. Each person must choose, but I wasn't allowed to. So now I'm running away from the thing they think will save me.

I think counseling or therapy would help me. Yeah.

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