“You don't really believe in God do you?’ he asked, his voice soft against the beating tide as they lay on the grainy wet sand staring up at a star speckled night sky.
“No, you just say that because you need an anchor, something you can hold onto or blame when things go wrong–an answer for questions too cruel. You’re scared of a world of your own, where you’re responsible, a world where you decide which way the wheels turn. Deep down you're afraid and you doubt yourself, so you say you believe in his will, and when you play a wrong hand you shrug and say it just wasn't meant to be. You cling onto the hope of something bigger because your human mind seems incapacitated to handle loss and grief. You believe because it makes everything easier. The world is a little less chaotic and your mind is a little more calm. You think you believe because it makes death not seem like the inevitable”.
There was silence as she mulled over what he had just said.
Deep down she knew it was the truth. She didn't really believe it, it was just something she had somehow truly managed to convince herself was true. She never had faith no matter how many prayers she prayed, and preachings she followed. She didn't know how to, she just prayed without trying to think and hoped the Almighty had heard her, trying to find morbid peace in the midst of chaos, but somehow she had always known there was no one listening.
“It’s hard to have faith,” was all she said.
He turned to face her, his ever so black eyes scanning her, trying to figure out what was going on in her head.
“Do you have faith in me?” he asked instead.
After a moment's breath she turned, looking at him with a gaze foreign and unknown. “No” she breathed, “I do not know you.”
- A.A
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Dark Therapy
Poetry||Poetry|| I built my own Paris, Just to watch it crumble down And yet I tried again, Mind fixated on a fantasy That spoke of wings and fairy tales #164 ranking in poetry 9/1/2021 #149 ranking in poetry 9/2/2021 #72 ranking in poetry 9/4/2021 #55 ra...
