The Beginning

God, who is he? The man who created the world? Is he the man who created humanity, all life and death, greed, wars, fear, and grief? If he is then I think he’s a hypocrite. After all he just sits up in the sky and watches his people suffer and die. How can people stand believing in him? He never helps you when you need the help. He always just watches you cry. If the devil exists then God is the god and the devil.
How can he make horrible things like us? We’re slowly killing our home, our world. The world doesn’t belong to us, we belong to it. We’re only here because of the world and the god, but if he really loves this world so much then why did he create us? Does he even care?
I don’t believe he exists. I would never even if I saw him face to face. ‘Cause that hypocrite is probably just eating right now when I’m talking about him. If he hears me then why doesn’t he do anything? Or is he just sitting and looking pissed off?
Is there even a heaven? Where the pure souls go and become angels? In fact are there even apostles? The apostles are the thirteen people chosen by God. Hmm… have I seen one? No. I don’t even know what they supposedly look like. If they are real then why won’t God give us a sign? A sign to tell us we can be saved? We can’t be saved, because he doesn’t give us a sign.
If I ever meet that hypocrite I’ll beat the shit out of him. He just watched my parents die and brothers leave me. I believed him when I was a kid and all he gave me was grief and loneliness. I had to struggle to just become sixteen now.
He also gave me this horrible body with marks. It’s all over me. That’s why I wear a headband to cover my forehead, boots to cover my legs, gloves to cover my hands, pants, and a long coat to cover everything else. Really what am I, a monster? I’ve also always been above average. That’s why people are jealous me, but they don’t even know how I feel about this. In fact some people keep their distant away from me. Am I that freaking? You know I also asked God this question and he did not reply to me. I repeat, did not.
I mean like is there anybody who is just like me? I feel like why was I even born? Is there any one who can understand me? Who shares my pain? I don’t know maybe god himself. Maybe that’s why he gave me this body. But no one knows because he never shows his ugly god damn face in public.

I wrote this for my book which I never finished. It's the prologue to my book The Beginning. I was very emo-ish back then.