“So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

I thought you knew that God couldn’t be pinned down. You’ve said so many times that his nature is incomprehensible. Why do you tell me we can’t know the concrete truth, but then, with the same tongue and absolute certainty, tell me I’m wrong? There is no absolute truth. I know you think that’s a logical fallacy. But you ignore every logical fallacy I bring to your attention, and you know why, don’t you? You know it’s because there is no absolute reality. You know that, because even the color red changes from human to human. Even eyesight, depth perception, hearing. I’m deaf in my left ear. I can’t hear the birds chirping in the morning. My best friend is schizophrenic. She texted me the other night about the way the voices seemed different than they usually do — they were alarming when usually they’re calm. How come you hate vanilla ice cream when I love it? How come I care so much about hell when you don’t? How come I’m wrong when I say that truth is relative?

Vanilla ice cream is delicious. There is no absolute truth.

Everything about life is subjective. That is the nature of reality and the beauty of it, too. God will not damn me to hell because he did not reveal the same truth to me that he did to you. God is Abba, Father, Mother, Protector of his/her children in life and in death. He knows where our differences lie. He knows that fear will never be solid ground for my faith, even if it is for you. We aren’t the same.

You know that God is the God of second chances. You know the parable of the Farmer and his workers. He hired men to tend his vineyard, and they worked all day starting in the morning. When afternoon came, he found more men waiting for work, and when he asked them why they were waiting, they said nobody had hired them. So he hired them, and they worked until the end of the day. When the Farmer paid all of the workers the same, the ones who had worked from morning complained. “‘These who were hired last worked only one hour,’ they said, ‘and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.’ But he answered one of them, ‘I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? Take your pay and go. I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you.'”
(Matthew 20)

God is in control. He will save some of us now and some of us at the mouth of Death. We will never be penalized for waiting.

I’m waiting for God. All of the faithless are waiting. We cannot be cast into hell for the knowledge that is withheld from us.

The road to truth is dim and slippery and every human being is given a separate route.



At school, I watched Azaria and Anthony and Karina and Floppy while we talked. Why is there always some division in presence? Like they’re not really there, and neither am I. We’ve always felt that tinge of loneliness.

The way time passes is surreal. If I close my eyes and focus, I can pretend I’m in my dorm room at CSSSA, just the way I so dreaded imagining home while I was there. I had nightmares of leaving, nightmares in which I was back home but I was freaking out because I was just there and had no memory of leaving CSSSA, and something in my head told me it was a dream, but that didn’t make it any less horrible because I knew that nightmare would come true, and I wouldn’t be there anymore.

I sometimes deal with exercising, or getting through a bad night of screaming parents, or getting through school. I’m here right now, I tell myself, but time is relative, and I’m going to be somewhere else, at home, watching Doctor Who, this assignment finished, this pain gone. I live in the future until the future comes to me. I lose interest in the present because I know the present is only here right fucking now and it just slips away and there’s no way at all to stop it. That’s shitty when I’m at CSSSA, but it’s great when my dad is screaming and breaking shit and acting like a complete fucking asshole lunatic.

Time is unpredictable, unknowable. I have no idea whether anyone even exists apart from me. I could be raving mad, or I could be on an intense hallucinogen, or I could be dead, or I could be… I don’t even know what I could be. Maybe I’m the only real thing in my world. Maybe the universe is just a product of my imagination and that’s all life is for anybody, their own universe of infinite narcissism, solitude, and ravaging depression.

Maybe I’m 16, but Azaria is 32. Maybe Karina is 20. Maybe Anthony is dead. How do I know all our timelines progress in exactly the same place, same time frame? Maybe this is a memory to them. Maybe they’ve already forgotten, and I’m alone here. I will never, ever know whether I’m just full of shit.

How do I know anything exists except for now? Maybe all my memories are fake and I’m stuck in a loop, and all I’m ever going to do is type this word over and over and over and over and over and over again, and never move on to anything more. How do I know? How do I fucking know?

I know absolutely nothing, and all I can do is just forget about it and keep moving so I know I can. And this is why I shouldn’t be sitting on my computer alone on a Friday night. My mind wanders into this sinkhole and all I can do is try to fathom existence but just come up short again and again because my mind is a fucking pinhole and I don’t even know whether I should blame God or the unseeable, unknowable force of a universe I don’t even know is real.

All I can do is distract myself. And lose myself in the mind of someone else so I don’t end up doing this forever.

Stars and Their People

I wonder why nobody pays any attention to me. I analyze my actions and think, I’m so worthy of attention, I’m so fucking smart and talented and why doesn’t everybody love me? I ought to be famous by now.
But I take a look at the stars, and I look around as I walk in public, at all the faces, listen to all the voices, and I don’t know any of their fucking names, I don’t know who they are, I don’t fucking know what they even do. I look at the sky and I don’t even fucking know if we’re alone here, I don’t know if humanity is all there is. Fuck, is there a God? If there isn’t, we’re tiny, we’re fucking tiny, and I’m tiny, and I can’t even remember people’s names when they tell them to me, and I sit in school and laugh at how stupid my peers are compared to me. They aren’t stupid.
I’m trapped in my mind, and I only have my eyes. I can’t fucking comprehend how many people there are on earth. I can’t imagine being someone else, not enough to care about them more than I fucking care about myself.
I talk about myself too much. Hell, I’m starting almost every sentence here with the word “I.” I only stop talking about myself when I think I’m annoying, because I’m so scared of what people will think of me, I’m scared they’ll think I’m selfish.
I am selfish.
I’ve always been selfish, and I’ll always be fucking selfish.
There are so many people without names. I want significance, but I can’t even manage to give significance to my best friend without fucking everything up.
The truth is, I don’t know what to do. I want a God, but the God I’ve been raised to believe apparently made us just to send us to hell. People say we’re born sinful, and that means we deserve to go to hell unless we accept grace from God, but didn’t God make us? He makes us sinful and then punishes us for being sinful. I’m too fucking scared to try out another religion. I’m too fucking scared not to believe in a God. I don’t know what religion I am. I don’t know what sexuality I am.
I don’t know fucking anything. I say I love people, but I don’t know how to love.
I want to care enough to make a change, but I just cry when I look at the stars because there is so much I will never know, and I just cry when I look at the people around me, because even if I become significant against so many odds, there are so many people who will die insignificant that I could spend my whole life naming them off and I still wouldn’t make it to the end of the list.