Conversations with god

The religious people in my life keep telling me to pray. This isn't exactly what they had in mind, I'm sure, but it's a vehicle.

My aunt's philosophy is that god (or whatever sentience is out there that we choose to acknowledge as god) is always there, speaking through us, to us, is part of us. "The force" from Star Wars, if you will, only with a sentience and benevolence.

Right. So that clown that made a few million bucks writing "Conversations with God" volumes 1 through 600 might not have been completely on crack.

Ok. Well, then, here we go.

Hmm. I think that, if you exist at all, you're a piece of shit. Are you really benevolent enough to put up with the chip on my shoulder?

Sure.

Sigh. Why do I think this is so stupid?

Because you don't believe.

And if I did, would I be any happier?

Maybe.

Why?

Purpose.

Sigh. I just want to die. What do you think of that?

A pity.

Fuck you.

I'm still here.

Alright, fine. If you exist, and if you're all powerful, and if you give a flying fuck, then why am I here? Why am I this miserable?

(static)

Sure. I can't understand the long answers, right? Easy excuse.

Was that a question?

This is stupid.

It is whatever you think it is.

Fine. Is there a Satan?

Only in the hearts of people. Your dad is one part of the concept of Satan.

What about my heart?

You're heart is good, but your path is lost, forgotten, and blurry.

So I'm confused.

Tony's words, not yours. But yes, they'll do.

What about the people I've hurt?

All grown ups. Not inspiration for real hate.

Should I hate Laura?

Hate is wrong. But feel whatever you need to feel to get over her.

So you're saying I'm not over her?

That's a rhetorical question.

How could she do that to me?

I don't know why any of you do the crazy things you do.

But you're supposed to be fucking GOD.

So?

So you're supposed to know everything.

So?

Sigh. Never mind.

Will I always be this way?

Yes, but it does get better.

Will I always question the nature of my existence?

It is in your nature as a species.

Cliche.

You yourself say that stereotypes exist for a reason.

This isn't helping.

Then ask the right questions.

Why do I feel so alone?

Because you are.

(rolls eyes) Ok, how can I not feel so alone?

Stop dwelling on it. Start trusting.

Trusting who?

Everyone.

Are you crazy?

No, you are.

Everyone I've ever trusted has forsaken me.

Not true. You can think of at least a dozen people who love you and would never hurt you.

On purpose.

Yes, on purpose. But aren't good intentions good enough?

No, they're not! My mother had good intentions. Laura had good intentions. Amanda had good intentions. I had good intentions.

You forgave Amanda. Leave her alone.

Fair enough. But what of the others?

Forgive them too.

How?

Just do it.

And then what? The next girl that comes along who tells me she appreciates me gets to squash my spirit all over again, anew?

At least you'll have a new spirit to squash.

I can't.

Yes you can.

NO, I can't. It hurts soo much.

You're hurting now. What do you have to lose?

But I have nothing to gain.

You say that without knowledge. You cannot know where you have not been.

I don't think I'm strong enough.

Forgive yourself first. The others will come.

How do I do that?

Well, what do you despise yourself for?

This. Being a complete bitch, typing to myself in the middle of the night, needing so much, hurting so much, crying so much, and not knowing how to get out of it.

Ok. After that.

Not being worth loving.

I love you.

No you don't. You left me when I needed you most.

No, you stopped listening when you needed me most.

Easy out.

So what?

So you're God. You're supposed to carry me when I need you most.

Life isn't that Footprints poem. Sorry. Deal with it.

What is life, then?

What you make it.

That's my father talking.

Too bad he didn't listen, eh?

You're saying that if I don't listen that I will become just like him?

No, you are.

This is like talking to Eliza, that AI experiment.

(laughter)

I cannot forgive my mother.

I told you, forgive yourself first.

Ok, ok. I hate myself for not being worth loving.

If I'm not enough, who will ever be?

That's not an answer.

So ask another question.

Why don't I feel worth loving?

You know the why already.

How can I become worth loving.

You already are.

FUck. You know what I mean.

It's a choice. You just believe.

Demand?

No, you tried that.

And then I went to Texas.

You were close, there. Closer than you ever thought possible before.

Close to believing?

More than that.

Close to happiness?

You were happy.

So what went wrong?

You pushed too much. She wasn't ready. You fell back on your defensive bitterness, rather than embracing the man you can become.

With her?

No. With yourself.

Do I need to find another like her to reach that point?

It wasn't her. She just made you notice.

So, then, why am I here in this state now?

Because (static)

Argh. Am I here because of her?

Same answer. It wasn't her. You did this all by yourself.

I'd be lost even if I'd never met her?

If not her, then someone else.

So she wasn't the one?

You know the answer to that.

No, I don't, because I wouldn't have asked.

The person that you are now would not be compatible with the person that she is now.

Pretty vague for an omniscient being.

Pretty demanding for a mortal.

Fuck you.

Fuck you too. Did you have another question?

Should I go to Tucson?

No.

Should I go to Davis?

(static)

For school?

(static)

It would be ok if I went?

Yes.

But not ideal?

No.

Should I go to UT?

Yes.

Should I write a long appeal letter?

No. Two paragraphs ought to do it.

And send it immediately?

Yesterday.

Will I get in?

Yes.

And I'll move there in the fall?

August.

And when I get there...

It's not about her. It's about not being here, about being somewhere new, yet still having people that love you around.

Debbie.

And Joe.

What if I don't get in?

You will.

But...

Omniscient. Shut the fuck up.

Will I find love there?

Yes.

Will I be happy?

No. Then yes. Then no. Yes. Yes. No.

Smart ass. Will I be happier between August and December than I have been since Christmas?

Yes and no.

Sigh. Will I cry as much?

Yes.

Will I smile more?

Yes.

Will I play as much basketball?

No.

Will I miss it?

Yes.

What will I miss most?

Corban, your gym, Sam, and familiarity.

Will I be friends with Lauren?

Yes.

Will we date?

Yes. Maybe. No. Then yes.

It will be complicated.

Yes.

Should I not even call her when I get there?

She'll find you if you don't.

okkkkkkay. Does it matter?

No.

Meaning my road to happiness is not about external factors?

It is a little, but no. You've gotta do this on your own.

Ok, so how do I become a happier person?

Forgive yourself.

For leaving my brother?

Yes. Next?

For not trying harder with Amanda.
For letting Laura hurt me so badly.
For not forgiving my mother.
For hating my father.
For being alone.

You hate yourself for being alone?

Your the god here.

I'm being rhetorical. Listen to how that sounds.

It's just more proof that I'm damaged goods.

You will get through this, [alfie]. You will be loved. You will be happy.

Are you sure?

Not when you have thoughts like that.

But you're omniscient.

It doesn't work that way. It's like I can see all eventualities across all aspects of the multiverse similtaneously.

Does the universe really work that way?

Sorta. I'm just putting it in terms that you can understand.

Right. So there's a small percentage that I'll just end it all in the next couple of months, in which case, no, I'll never be happy, but if I stick it out, then...?

Then you still have a long road in front of you.

Vague!

You were expecting predestination?

Well, it would be nice.

Then this is all just a waste of time, now isn't it?

No, because if practice can make my jump shot better, then maybe self-analysis can make me find happiness.

Well, no, but I'll let that slide.

So the answer isn't introspection?

There is a mildly solid line between introspection and obsession.

(lol). So about my list.

All of your feelings are perfectly understandable and normal. You've come a long way with the deck stacked against you and should be proud of that.

But I'm still not happy. Besides, I knew all that.

You know it, but you don't feel it. You don't believe it. You don't have faith in yourself.

I have faith that I can... oh. Yeah, you're right.

So what do I do about that?

Write your appeal letter. Get your shit in order. Get moving. Wrap things up. Plan. Get to work. Take care of yourself. Sleep 8 hours a night. Give your service to king and country. Stop killing yourself.

Killing myself?

With alcohol. With your sleeping habits. With your self-hate. With your tears.

What if I don't get in to Texas?

Write your appeal letter right now. You'll get in.

And what of San Diego this weekend?

Do you want to go?

No. Not at all.

Would it be good for you?

I'll have fun because all of my friends will be there. I might have a one-night stand with one of the bridesmaids. Or not. Maybe Circe will be there. Not quite a one-night stand, but...

Shut up.

Um, right. Ok.

I believe I asked if it would be good for you.

Getting laid might be.

True. But not that way. Just call Jill for that. Same question.

Sigh. I'll drink too much. And if I miss it, I'll regret it. I will disappoint a good friend. If I stay home, I'll sleep in...

You can make that choice. It's not set in stone.

I know. But I know me.

So change you.

Ok. So I should go to bed right now and decide if I'm going in the morning.

That's fine.

What about my appeal letter?

Write it now. Or write it tomorrow. But get done. And sent. Immediately.

As in before tomorrow afternoon?

As in before tomorrow at noon.

Ok. This is really crazy, you know.

(lol)