Thursday, May 28, 2009

hats, cats and places to hide.

Somebody asked me today, if I believed in God. It’s funny how its trendy to hate god at the moment. All my friends are so wrapped up in their own atheism that I don’t think the question of his existence has ever been positioned to me. I guess they just assumed I was happily sitting in the boat with them. I looked down at my feet; I looked at the ground around them, and then slowly climbed back to stare vacantly and the negative space made by the person’s neck and shoulders. As if the question was so personal that I couldn’t bring myself look them in the eye, as if they had just pulled down my pants in the middle of the street.
I felt how a prostitute must feel when they are finished with a tick, a mix of pride and shame.

I rested on that I don’t believe in organized religion and that no man or no mans book can tell me anymore about god than I can tell myself. That god wont talk to me because im sure he is pretty busy at the moment with his own drama, and although im sure he listens cant be bothered by my little things.
I think that god is like a working parent. They love you, and care for you. But they just can’t be there all the time; you have to grow up by yourself.

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