Letter to God: Burn me in hell!

Dear God,

I believe you exist. I know very well that your sense of reality is immeasurable and that you are beyond time, space and matter. Heaven and hell are not mere theories but hold a practical value to me. Consider this as a prayer, but please burn me in hell. I don't want to come to heaven, because if I did you would find a fierce opponent who believes only in love and would shatter all your statutes bereft of civility and respect towards those who are not 'your people' - with abject vehemence. I am not Satan, I wouldn't war with you for a piece of expensive furniture called throne, because thrones are mere objects of assumed power and authority. My throne is where I lay my tent, in the crannies of the bark and sleeping alongside smelly bugs and venomous spiders and all that you labelled unclean. That is where I find my happiness, at the comfort of brokenness and wails of dejection and suppression. I am blind enough to find my light in darkness.

My defiant attitude is the outcome of not just one thing. I could list a million things, but I don't owe you any explanation. I am what I am. Don't wait for the judgement day, because if you did - I'd probably mock you on your face, so kill me soon and throw me into the lava of sulfur. If you ever thought hell could douse my spirit, you are verily wrong. I challenge you that I would build a kingdom of love as my soul fries inside the burning chambers, because assholes and whoremongers make for better saints than the ones in robes and singing vibrant hallelujahs, you just need to touch the right chords. You would see me win in places you lost, but I would still not call myself god or ask people to worship me and no one else, for I detest jealousy. You could write me off for good, make me completely extinct, no heaven no hell, detest me some more, regret it and call it a sin to have let the womb survive in my mother's belly, blow me away, out of your fucking mind, take me out of all the drama you started in Eden and fart me out of your divine fucking design. I think you already are considering the option, because no good criminal leaves behind his proofs.

You might wonder why I write such abominable things, but I don't really care. You already know the whys and the hows and the wheres and the whens. The more I experienced life and its complex non-linearity, the more I grew into a practical sense of disillusionment that hit me like how crystal meth would hit an amateur shooter. I don't blame you for the sins of humanity, which would also mean I don't credit you with any good that happens on this beautiful planet either. With or without you, love could and would still exist. May be one day you would grow up to realize love is more supreme than who you claim yourself to be through your prophets.

Yours,

Zac

Once a servant

Now a fitting nemesis

P.S. The God I'm writing to is the God fed to us from the books!

The Kill

Riots run amok deep within my heart triggered by your words that slayed my peace forever. I see flowers smelling of horror and some sort of queasy stench gently mixes with the pleasant evening breeze in all the wrong proportions that when the air caresses my skin through the window sill next to my bed, it bleeds from my nose. My pillow is full of blood, the cuts from the scars have ripped themselves open again, and the gory pieces of my skin and bones burn in anguish.

The barbs from those syllables of something else - fired like gunshots from misguided cannons nailed me upside down to the wretched cross I never imagined I would ever hang from, my veins breaking from within my head after repeated bombs of hemorrhage splatter my brain, and every letter from those words spraying vitriol on my face disfiguring me for good. I have been trying my luck at recouping, but I have lost parts of me that would never wake up again to see the light of day.

Right when I was about to conclude that the damage was irreversible, I found my heal. The balm for deep wounds lies hidden in the happiness you could create in others. I started to take my bag and travel alone, went to places, stepped into zones considered taboo and unsafe, started talking to strangers, men and women who have been impaired with deep hurt, gave away everything I had, with the only intent to bring out all the best smiles I possibly could, from those souls dimmed by smoky infernos of life - till I was sure they were really happy. The answer to most of your life's questions lies in you being the answer to the prayers of others. Happiness truly is real only when shared.