iceteakik

Dear God, I don't really believe in you but those around me have different feelings on the matter. From early on I admit my view of religion was one dimensional, shallow at best. The experience was all lacey white dresses and the most ostentatious church hats from the downtown boutiques. God, you watched as my daddy shoved hypocrisies and scripture down my throat and mama just told me to sit still. In the years to follow, I've watched them fall off those pedal stools to smack on the pavement each time. As an adult, I still feel that pressure to believe, pray, and be grateful for having a decent life. I call bull on that because if I had to claim a divinity than my religion is simple decency. If I turn out a decent human being and not a raging bitch, no matter how tempting, then I've done well. God, as you know my sister has died and presumably gone to heaven because she was a great person. I wasn't ready though, none of us were but really my heart wasn't ready for this shit. How do

I don't have a bad life folks just a negative outlook on the world and everything surrounding it. I feel sorry for myself but don't think I have a right to. No matter how awful, no that's not the right word... How I feel is indescribable. It's like I'm waiting for my life to begin but it hasn't, it won't and it's my fault entirely. I exist and well that's it, I'm existing from day to day. I hate that feeling but then again I hate a lot of things. The things that bring me pure unconditional joy, I could count on one hand and drink a six-pack with the other. I don't know the precise moment I started feeling like life wasn't worth shit but I know the moment I wanted to be a writer. My teachers in elementary school would always boast about how creative and smart I was, little did eight-year old I know they said that to everyone. Regardless I felt special and like somebody special I wanted to be recognized for it. Writing helped me feel less like a piece of shit and always gave me a way to

My honesty gets me in more trouble than I think its worth sometimes. I won't tapper it for anyone, however, I have this one life and I won't spend it wishing I had said what I really felt. Or maybe I will, who's to say I can't smile and nod the rest of my time on this earth and suffer through? I'm stuck between the anguish of silencing myself and the derision that comes with my freedom of speech. There are times I wish everyone around me was deaf so I could scream aloud no questions asked. My harsh tongue offends my family...but I would think by now that they would know me. Honestly, they do know what kind of person I am, they just leave the