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Click hereDear God, Yahweh, Allah, Buddha or whoever is up there looking down on us,
I have lived my life as best I can. I have always been respectful of others and accepted even those that hated me. I have never stolen, lied, or intentionally hurt another human being. I have abided by every social law. I have given to those less fortunate whenever I could, both monetarily and spiritually. I have loved unconditionally, and I have never doubted your plan-- not even as a child, when my father did those horrible things to me. I just closed my eyes and thought of you. I thought that if I could survive it, I would be rewarded.
Yet I am being punished. I am alone. I have no living family. The friends I have acquired throughout my life have all shown themselves to be frauds. However, I always had my husband. He was the sparkle in my life—my shining star in the dark sky. We loved each other more than I can express in this letter. But you took him away from me. Without warning or cause you took him from me.
Why? Why, when I loved him so much? I have tried to find a reason why this might be, but I cannot.
Until now I have never questioned you or your divine plan, but now I do. I find myself wondering if you are the loving God the world claims, or even if you exist at all. After all, if you did exist and love us so, why do you hurt us? I loved my husband more than anything on this earth, yet I would have never dreamt of hurting him the way you have hurt me. I would have never done anything to make him sit at home, alone, crying. But you did that to me.
I find that the tears will not stop coming. When I am home alone they come. When I am at the store they come. When I am riding the bus they come. I can't stop them. And every time they come I think of him. I think of how he would have wrapped his arm around me and comforted me or how he would have rubbed my cheek to soothe me. But he doesn't and he never will. Not ever again.
A part of me wonders if you know the pain you have caused me. Because if you did and you truly loved me, then you would not have done this horrible thing. You would have let us have children and grow old together. Or, at the very least you would have let us die together. Like Baucis and Philemon, from the Ovid story. The couple who, when given a wish by Zeus himself, wished not for money or power, but that they would die at the same moment so that neither would have to live a day without the other. At the very least, you could have given us that.
But yet I sit here drowning in the pain that you have given me. Not love or compassion, but agony. And I ask again, why? If I had an answer, maybe that would help me. But I know I'll never get one. Your children spend hours praying, but you never answer.
So her I sit in my home, listening to the echoes of my fingers on the keyboard. That's all that's here now—echoes. Shadows and glimpses of what could have been; what should have been.
Now I have found a new companion—the pills. These round little things that make me forget about him and you. They make me forget I have ever lost something, or that I ever had something worth losing. But they hurt me too. When I don't take them my body shakes. I don't know if it's because my body needs them now, or because my heart needs them now. Either way, they are all that I have; two hundred and fifty milligrams of comfort every day. Was this the way it was supposed to be? Were the pills supposed to be my true love? Were the pills all that I deserved?
Maybe so. Maybe you tried to warn me when I was a child. Maybe you tried to tell me I wasn't worthy. And I just didn't listen. Instead I warped your divine plan by marrying one of your good children. Maybe that's why you took him; you took him back. At least that's all I can come up with.
And then, there's the knife as well. I bought it yesterday at the supermarket after I stopped crying. It's nothing fancy, but just enough to do the job. I've already started a little. It's not as hard to do as I thought it would be.
Like I said, you never answer us when we pray to you. So now I'm going to talk to you face to face and finally get some answers, even if that means damnation. It's worth it.
So I'll see you soon, and maybe even my husband too. I want to know, do you really love me? Do you even know who I am? Get your answers ready.
Suicide is like a bullet, neither can be taken back. He doesn't answer me either. God, the Almighty makes no easily discernable sound to me anymore as I've replaced him with hatred & drugs. Praise didn't work and certainly blasphemy wasn't going to either.
The only logical reason why we seem so unimportant to the Maker has to be that death isn't really death. Whatever it is that makes you, you continues to live in some form only now the vehicle (your body) doesn't accompany you. If that's the case, we're wholly ill-prepared for that. Trust & faith are the only suggestions from the worthless piece of shit whore of a church. Then they compound the misery by blaming you for your lack of faith, which is a sin as not trusting God is to call him a liar, and tell you you MUST read the Word & pray more. Oh, and don't forget to keep that tithe check coming. To be fair, there are times the Lord actually sounds off and, while you can't see Him, you see His influence. It's like seeing the branches move due to wind, but can't see the wind itself. It's exciting to see Him work in another's life, just not in yours, or shall I say 'mine'?
I'm reminded of the Alkaline Trio song, Hell Yes
"You've been there for me one time in my life, but it didn't matter. You came & went so fast all my hope & faith in you shattered,".
I can't imagine what kind of reward He could bestow for an entire life of sadness, depression, disappointment, but never losing faith in His love for you. I'll never get to know as I've lost & regained my faith so many times my head spins and not a peep. Not that He owes you, right? No, I'm a sinner and belong in hell. That's all I've ever earned from Him, but so has everyone else so what the fuck? Where's all that good shit He drops on so many others right in front of me?
I don't ... Fuck it. I truly feel pain for the heart that wrote this and can only hope it isn't autobiographical.
When another human being is so desperate that they write something like this and post it somewhere...anywhere... there is only one response that is appropriate... compassion. This person doesn't need either theology or correction much less mockery or egging on.
OnlyByMoonlight, please know that I have been in a dark place like this and I got though it and believe that you can to. Please find someone supportive to talk to. If you can't think of anyone call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at:
1-800-273-TALK (8255)
or
1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433)
These are free, 24-hour hotlines available to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress.
Also, here is a wonderful link that helped me.
If you are suicidal, read this first
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I am so sorry you are in so much pain. You are in my prayers.
You should have sent this to The Psychology Journal, instead of posting it here! This is some sick-ass shit. Call the suicide hot line and leave us alone!!!
I spent my life trying to rescue those lost souls, bent on self-destruction. All too often, I did not succeed. Those really intent on doing it, almost always did it. (If not immediately, then in time.) One such, with whom I was attempting to intervene, came close to killing me, abruptly ending my own career...JUST DO IT!