A God I don’t believe in
AI-generated image of my cats, Drusilla and Cheeto.
I often find myself praying to a God I don't believe in. I don't really know what I believe, except that I think humanity couldn't possibly have it right. If there is a God, we wouldn't be able to perceive it or fathom its motives or desires.
Religion becomes a part of you when you live in the South. When they call it the Bible Belt, they mean it. We didn't go to church every Sunday. When we did, I hated it (because people - yuck). I hated Sunday School even more (children - ew!).
As a child, my least favorite thing was other children. Made it hard to make friends. Now, I think kids are pretty much the best thing the world has to offer. Still, most adults are arseholes… and some kids are, too. Still, they have an excuse and the potential to change, which decreases dramatically as you age. But I digress… I do that a lot, actually. ADHD is fun /s. Every thought in my head is stray. It's either all the thoughts, all the time, or nothing… crickets… tumbleweeds.
( I want to gnaw on my cat, Cheeto, Dru's brother. I have severe cuteness aggression, and he's just the grumpiest, snuggliest little old man now, and I love him so much. Grrr!)
What was I talking about? GOD! God is everywhere here. There's a church on every street. People aren't afraid to knock on your door and ask about your immortal soul. Kinda seems like a personal question to me. And people around here have guns. It couldn't be me.
People are always offering to pray for you, no, not offering, insisting, even strangers. With all this "manifesting" going on, you'd think something good would happen, but they've done studies that proved prayer doesn't work. I know that, and I still find myself praying to a God I don't believe in.
Thoughts on Depression
Depression is a parasite, always by your side.
Depression doesn’t just steal your future and your present; it colors everything gray. It steals the happy moments and leaves the bad, turning good memories into distant illusions. You never really get them back, not the way they were before. Depression is a thief. It tells you you’ll never be happy again and that you’ve never been happy before.
It’s the loudest voice in your head and sounds just like you. It gets harder and harder to decipher who is who and what is what. If you hear something negative about yourself enough you’ll start to believe it. The truth is depression is like being in an abusive relationship with yourself, but you can’t leave yourself. It’s hard to look at the chaos your life becomes and not believe all the awful things your depression tells you.
The worst part is sometimes it tells the truth. Nobody’s perfect, but depression knows you better than you know yourself. It digs into your flaws and deepest insecurities and makes them true, makes them real.
Depression shows no compassion and gives no forgiveness.