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!