A bitter prayer

Dear God,

I want to rant and rail against the injustices and evils of my own life, those evils done to me, and those I have done to others.

I am filled with loathing, both for myself and for the circumstances that caused me so much pain.

I no longer care if only I am flogged, or if only those who hurt me are flogged; I want the whole rotten business to be swept away in a flood of justice, a never ending torrent of your power. As you did for Amos, send me a vision of righteous destruction. Send me a dream of a sinful world swept clean by water.

I want the whole of my life to be cleaned and sterilized. I want an end to my own depravity. I want an end to the scum-filled infrastructure of our world. I want an end to the pain and the perversion. I want absolution. I want judgment. I want the punishment of oblivion. I want to be so distanced from the sheer existential weight of my life that I fade into nothing. If I cannot have joy, if the structure of my brain is so organized that I will forever struggle with these same age old tendencies, these ancient temptations, then I'd rather have the whole thing blown open by a bullet, or choked dry by a noose. Better that than to see constant reminders, left and right, of every mistake I've ever made, every person I've let down, every shake of the head, every tear shed, every wrong done to me, every injustice I have suffered, every evil I have perpetrated as a consequence of those injustices. Better to rot and burn away. Better to end this churning and unending nightmare of filth. Better to awaken to the clean state of nothingness.

You'd better hear me.

You'd better see me.

You'd better take pity on me.

You'd better help me.

You owe me that much. And if you will not listen, fuck you.

Amen.