Hi. It’s me. But I guess you already knew that. We need to talk. Now, I know that you are supposed to be “all-knowing” and whatnot, but I find myself questioning your logic. To be honest, I find myself questioning a lot lately. Everything actually. My grams would say that I am committing the ultimate sin, by questioning your “work/plan”, and maybe she is right–and yet, here I am, doing just that. Between you and I, do you think you could just let this one slide, just this one time??
Okay, so where to start. Logic. Now, my grams has always said that you know and see-all. That you have our lives planned out before we are even born. That having been said, I would very much appreciate an explanation. Answers. Starting with, why me? Why am I here? Why are ANY of us here, for that matter? I mean, if our existences are essentially insignificant in the long run, they why even bother? What is the point? Is there a purpose, any at all? I want to, no NEED to know that there is a reason for this. For why we are here, why I am here. I need answers. Hell, I just need something to believe in. To hold onto. If this is all there is, if I am merely an insignificant pawn in a life and a world that is essentially meaningless–then I am sorry, but I want out. You can smite me for that if you choose to do so, but I will not be a pawn. Not even yours.
All my life, I have had these questions. Ones that I should not have had; ones I was too young to even ask, let alone understand. Do you remember all those nights when I was little? How when the rest of the world was fast asleep, I would lie awake and wonder what it all meant? What life meant? Do you remember all the silent wishes I made on all those stars? Do you? Well, I do. I remember those nights. I remember feeling like there was so much more out there, but not knowing what that “more” actually was. I remember feeling incomplete. Empty even. Feelings that no five-year-old should even have.
Do you remember all those Sundays spent in church when I was just a girl? I do. I remember looking around at all the faces, wanting so badly to believe. To have faith. Do you remember all the questions I never had the nerve to ask out loud? Always so curious and inquisitive, I was. I merely wanted answers. I just wanted to know why.
Tell me, do you remember the exact moment when I stopped believing? When I gave up TRYING to? I remember that night. I think I will remember it for the rest of my life. It was the night you let cancer take my grandfather’s life. Why did you do it, God? Why did you let him suffer like he did? It was not fair. You had no right. You let him die in vain. Do you know that as he took those last dying breaths, the very last word he whispered was your name? He believed in you with his whole heart, and still you came and took him away, the only father-figure I had ever known, my “Papa” away. What point were you trying to prove? That you could give and take right back, if you wanted to? You took his life that night, but you took something from me, too. You see, that was the night I lost complete faith in you. I am sorry, but its true. The official blame was cancer, but me–I blamed you. And for that, I will never forgive you.
Now here I am and here we are, narly 12 years down the road. Time may have healed that particular wound, but there are scars that still remain. I still don’t have my answers but I will. Someday.
In getting back to the days of my youth…do you remember the big dreams I had, albeit so aloof? How I wanted to make a difference somehow. Maybe find a cure to end all suffering, once and for all. Change the world if I could. How I wanted everything. And how all I ever truly wanted, was to be happy. But now all those dreams are gone. I have nothing. Nothing at all. I have fate to thank for that. Came right in and knocked me down. You should have no problem recognizing me now. Just look for the mess in a tattered dress, still bleeding on the ground. That would be me. Hello again, God. Its been a long time, has it not?
Is it true? Was my grams right all along? Is this the life you planned for me? Did you make it a point to make it be this damn hard? What thoughts were going through your mind, I would really like to know, when you were personalizing this obstacle course that has become a metaphor for this life of mine? Is it true what they say? That what does not kill you, only makes you stronger? Even so, I’m not sure I can hold out for much longer. This hole of mine that I have dug, and wherein I reside, is getting darker. Slowly closing in on me, all the sides. I am pretty sure this is how it must feel to be buried alive. Tell me, God, is my heart and my life–am I–merely silly putty in your hands, an insignificant mold, suspended by sins, for the rest of time? Are you satisfied at what you see? Watching while I’m drowning in this vast ocean of despair, uncertainty, and just plain misery? Why God? Why are you doing this to me? Is this living hell my punishment for refusing to believe in something I cannot see? For denying you exist, while committing sins so recklessly?
What lesson do I take from what has been done? Am I supposed to simply accept my fate, take possession of all this hurt, of all the shame? Should I give thanks in your name, when in truth I resent you for making me a pawn in this messed-up little game? If you know all, then tell me. Tell me what I am supposed to say. I’m sick and tired of having to bear the burden of this blame. Won’t you please take some of it away?
Did you plan that night as well? The one so many years ago. If you knew what was going to happen, then why? Why did you do nothing to keep me from leaving and going out that night. Couldn’t you have warned me? Or given me a sign of some kind? Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t feel so dead inside. You let it happen. You heard me cry. You ignored my broken plea that night, sat idly by, while I begged for mercy. Begging you to please just let me die. Why God, why?
Do you care? Even at all? Or could you care less about all your little pawns? Do you rejoice every time you see one of us stumble, then fall? You know, that’s not love at all. It’s cruel and unfair and definitely not the work of a “loving God.”
What about the others? Did you plan for them as well? What about HIM? Did you put him in my path, just to see if I would take the bait? I dare you to say that you did it for my sake. Go ahead, I double dare. Did you enjoy the show? Did you know he was going to hurt me so? Were you watching from on high, waiting for the tears you knew I would eventually cry. The ones that always came, whenever he would kiss me and then say goodbye. Did you know what it did to me to have to watch him go? Did you know that a little part of me died each and every time? Did you put him in my path, to teach me some sort of life lesson? Was he the answer to my question? Truth be told, I could have done without all the deception. If you ask me, it didn’t teach me a damn thing. Unless of course you count, how wrong about a man a girl like me could be. Did you know it wouldn’t last? That it was over before we even got to the line labeled START. That a guy like him and a girl like me, had no place even trying to be a “we.” Some things are just never meant to be. Two people who were never meant to fall in love, or for that matter, live happily. Did you know that he would break me, that he would leave my heart in pieces, too many to even count? Before him, I never knew that love could be so cruel. That it could destroy everything you thought to be true. Is he to blame? Or should I blame you? After all, you knew. Of course you knew. You always do.
Was it love, or merely an illusion? Why does it feel as though I’m living in a constant state of confusion? Why did I love him then, why do I love him still? When will it fade? All this regret and pain? Does it ever go away? Do I deserve to live in this makeshift hell, bearing all the blame, while his life stays the same, and he walks around like a saint, casting lies and tarnishing what remains of my reputation. It’s not fair. Not fair at all.
Do I ignore the talk, and let the rumors run their course? Or do I tell the truth and for once in my life, stand up for myself? Do I clear my name and reveal to the world the one who is truly to blame? All the sacrifices made, and decisions that I should have never felt forced to make. The bible says I should forgive, but how do you forgive someone who played you like a fiddle. Someone who took it all, everything you had, tempting you with promises of a life you knew you could never have. How do you forgive the one who destroyed it all. The one that turned and walked away, and convinced the rest of the world to do the same. What I would give just to see his face, when he finally learns the truth. Realizes his mistake. It would serve him right. Maybe he will think twice next time around. That’s the price you pay when you assume and falsely accuse. When you underestimate the power of the truth. At some point, we all must be judged. One way or another, we all must pay our dues. I know that I have paid mine and someday, he will have to pay his too. I thought I knew him, god. I really thought I knew. But then I believed in you at one time, too.
And for this, I will most likely end up going to Hell. Uh oh. All I really have to say to that is c’est la vie. (Translation: What will be, shall be.) To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised is there’s no heaven and hell, either way. No afterlife. No white light and pearly gates. Just darkness and nothing. That is all I think there is after we die. Just dust and bones and regrets of lives unfinished, and ones never fully lived.
Your Insignificant Pawn,
NOTE: the first half of this “dear god” letter I wrote years ago when I was just your average angst-filled teen, as a way to, I don’t know, somehow vent out some of my frustration with religion I guess. I happened to come across it in one of my old journals earlier today and well, I do so hate to leave things unfinished…