Solitude and how I feel about it

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is how I feel. Something happened, I reacted my putting it on paper. I have always been different, and was mature from a young age. I had a normal childhood, except in the way I perceived the things around me. I never have believed in Santa Claus, even when I was very young. I have never been convinced of any religion, or the existence of God. This is not meant to ridicule or attack anyone's personal beliefs. It is just me venting through writing.

Submitted: December 16, 2011

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Submitted: December 16, 2011

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I am alone in this world. Everyone around me that I am supposed to love, I can only feel as if I am undeserving of their affection. All the friends that surround me feed me honey soaked words, just so they have a clear view of my back whenever I am comfortable enough to reveal my vulnerabilities. This existence is not the worst in existence.  I have no god to use as a external source to blame. How can there be a god in this miserable world. Though mine may be considered blessed, how can so many others be forsaken and cursed. “God the Almighty” playing favorites. Any intelligent being cannot rationalize the existence of a god as normal sheep do. Aimlessly and purposelessly bleating out “Hail Mary” and “Our Father”. It is easy to scoff at such ideas. Asking for forgiveness and thanking an imaginary friend in the clouds, god had no hand in this. I am alone. No one around me can relate to my views or the way I feel. Am I pessimistic? The longer I trudge on, the harder it is to lift my feet. The only reason I do not end this is because I feel maybe I could contribute to society. I have intellect. I cannot exit this world without contributing some good , regardless of whether or not there is some bearded man watching me and keeping a running score. Tallying up my actions in a book with two columns. The book is monochromatic, one side white, the other black. Good and evil are the columns’ headings, and he is furiously scribbling with a crayon trying to keep up with mine, and all the other books. Ridiculous.


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