GOD
Again I sat, pondering, searching through my stack of Bibles, and pamphlets, wondering the same damn thing over and over again. My search has at this point definitely gotten tedious. My mother called me to dinner. I called back to her quietly, not really caring if she heard or not, only concerned with the fact that I gave it an effort. What a joke, I thought as I rose and sauntered over to my window. Staring through the translucent glass, at what appeared to be a man in a dress running under a street light, I only glimpsed him and that quick observation heeded little time to absorb any details other than the fact that he was a man and he was wearing a dress and he was running. I wondered if that's how many people finished their meager thoughts, if they saw, they knew; for I did this not really knowing if it was a man, or if he was wearing a dress or if he/it was there at all, so saving myself the remorse of hypocrisy I ejected the thought out of my mind. That seemed strange to me, that, being the fact that I was now on my way down to eat dinner. Hunger was the farthest thing from my mind, but so patterned was I that I succumbed to that strange little thing we called dinner. Pulling out the chair made my hand send little messages to my brain saying: this chair is smooth and a dark brown color, like the color of a tree, this chair was created from a tree, the tree was grown from the ground the groun,d came from rocks, the rocks came from lava, the lava came from an explosion, the explosion came from, from what goddammit? Retiring my useless attempts to contemplate the beginning of it all, I sat and stared at the giant hunk of chicken on my plate. It was cornered by some peas, and sneaking up behind the unsuspecting chicken was a creamy pile of killer mash potatoes, the horror. "Did you have any trouble in school today?" The mouse-like tone of my mother made me weap inside, I meant not to scare her, but what do I do, I am me. To bar any further conversation I grabbed the salt shaker and violently shook it on to my peas, as I spoke, "Whatever trouble is," In order to completely do in any attempt on my mother's part to speak again I never ceased my salt shaking and kept piling on layer after layer of the white powder, comparing to cocaine; they look the same and if people only see to know then they know that I am shaking cocaine on my peas and not salt, I guess people don't see and know, back to square one. How my mother must feel, losing her husband, a man who's love has never been equaled by any man, my father who once went to the extent of buying my mother a brand new car, full of roses, and when my mother saw it she wept, as I weep now for her, for she is stuck with an asshole son, what a messed up place we live in. If I was in control I wouldn't let my mother end up with a son like me, if I was in control I wouldn't be me. No more, no more. My head exploded with confusion, I flew out of my chair, sending the chair screaming against the wall as they contacted each other a hole appeared in the wall. With one pull of the horrible table cloth everything came crashing down, glass went flying along with forks and spoons, the panicked shouts of my creator blurred away as I stared at one of the fallen utensils, a fork. At my father’s funeral I dropped a fork just as that one looked, as I bent to pick it up I recall my uncle giving me a cold stare as if I caused my father's death. This only spawned the fire in my head to double in size and in order to quench it I picked up my mother's now abandon chair and catapulted it into our bay window, where my mother ran off to was totally irrelavent to me. The blame, oh the blame on me, I did not do it, though the evidence would say so you weren't their to watch him die, you didn't know that turning that key would cause his entire hand to get chopped, you and me both. I didn't cause him to bleed to death, his blood caused him to bleed to death. Then I ran, after what I had no clue, from what I had no clue, to where I had no clue. With wind blowing through my long hair I knew now that it was definitely me. Knowing sometimes makes you think, thinking tends to lead to more thinking, discovering life, discovering death, not much of a difference there; so I stopped in the middle of the road in our busy street and stared at the two beams coming at me and I was born. Finally I knew, I knew that it was me the whole time, it was me who did it all because I am God, and you are God and everyone and everything is God. But contrary to popular belief God is a wretched soul, God is the fucker that did you in and made you tick, because if you didn't tick you wouldn't die. If you weren't ever born you would live forever, what a crazy, crazy person this world is, because after all this world is just one big cold, sadistic person. By: Dan Smith
Deep Thoughts
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