I am afraid.

Through the wet eyes of a child I am sitting at the windowsill clasping my hands praying to a God in which I don’t believe because I am afraid.

I feared that even after death I would have nowhere to go so I prayed and prayed and prayed. What comes after death if not Heaven or Hell? What do I do without the fear of God instilled in my every decision?

And then suddenly death seemed more lovely than the life that God himself had given me but people that take their own life don’t go to Heaven. I wanted to believe that God wouldn’t condemn me for the burdens he laid on my shoulders but then I truly began to wonder if God loved me.

I begged and pleaded in his name for forgiveness for freedom and love. But no one ever answered the soft sobs of a heartbroken child whose hands ached in their internal embrace. 

My bed feels as if my body and it have become one, as if the ocean has muffled my surroundings and blurred my vision. There’s no beginning to this body and no end to this storm, it comes and goes as it pleases, picking up my life and holding in front of me, dangling it as if taunting me. My bones are heavy and scream for the Earth that beckons my name, I long for her warmth, for her endless sleep.

I am selfish.

I am filled with want and through these wants I was shown no pity for who would ever bat an eye at the lying child, the manipulative child, the whiny child. A child does not know better a child doesn’t receive sympathy simply for shedding a few tears. We are scoffed at and belittled for our very presence. We are unwanted greed filled monsters and for that God shows no pity for if you cannot praise his name you are nothing but a mistake he has never come to realize.

And for that I am afraid.

Afraid that no one, not even God himself could ever bear to notice my existence. I am nothing but a mere stain on everyone's life. And for that I should be punished, and for that I must live.