You know what?
Fuck you, God.
Fuck you, Jesus.
I gave you my life.
My whole God damned life.
And look what you've done with it?
I trusted you, followed what I thought was your voice and went to one of the most fucked up fundamentalist churches I've ever seen.
A documentary has been made about how fucked up that church is.
We were on the Today Show and This American Life.
Jesus Christ.
And I gave them three years of my life at some 60-80 hours a week.
No, I gave you that time.
I dedicated myself to you.
Do you remember how I would pray for 20 hours a week?
Do you remember how you were my only friend?
Master's Commission taught me that I wasn't valuable. That my voice wasn't important.
I was used and abused and tossed aside.
Thrown away by my spiritual authorities.
Where were you, God?
Where the fuck were you?
Remember how I would cry until dehydrated?
Week in, week out, every church service, every altar call, for well over a year. Probably more than two years.
Do you remember, God?
I would pray, "please send someone to love me."
"just send someone to pray for me."
"I am so lonely"
"I am so lonely"
"I am so lonely"
No one ever came.
And was it my fault?
Your followers always seem to say so.
That's what they told me when I tried to seek help.
My faith wasn't strong enough.
I should cast my cares upon the Lord.
I have no reason to be depressed.
And most importantly, straighten up because I am in leadership and need to set an example.
Well, fuck them and fuck you.
These are your people?
This is who you have deemed to represent you?
yeah, yeah, yeah, free-will.
yeah, yeah, yeah, don't put your faith in man.
yeah, yeah, yeah, they weren't "real Christians"
Well, I was a fucking real Christian.
And I put my fucking faith in you, God.
But you didn't hear my prayers.
Not to help with my depression.
Not to stop the ever increasing voices of anxiety in my head.
Not to heal me from the plethora of genetic diseases that you blessed me with.
13 years later and you still haunt my head.
I can't escape you.
I am studying fucking church history, for fuck's sake.
Why? Because I cannot get you out of my brain.
You won't answer my prayers, but you won't leave me alone.
"have you tried to just surrender to Jesus?"
Yes. And fuck you for asking.
How many times now, Jesus?
How many times in the last thirteen years have I lied on my fucking face and cried out to you with everything within me?
I surrender.
I surrender.
I surrender.
But nothing ever gets better. Things only get worse.
You abandoned me long before my chronic pain ever started.
And you left me to rot.
Without direction.
Without support from anyone.
Alone.
Poor and in more physical pain than most can imagine.
The three times that I have tried to kill myself,
and even today, when I so badly want to swallow these eight or nine bottles of pills that sit on my nightstand,
something always stops me.
Is it you?
Then tell me, why the fuck am I supposed to be alive?
Do more than help me survive.
And fuck. To top it all off, I run into an old pastor friend from back in the bible school days.
Married guy with four kids.
He writes to me on Facebook, seems genuinely interested in my life.
Is this it? Is this when God will finally reach out to me?
No, this is when a married pastor tries to have sex with me.
So, in case you missed it,
FUCK. YOU. GOD.
Help me
or leave me alone.
Because I can't deal with this shit anymore.
3:35 p.m. - 2013-12-09
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
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