Yeah, there are problems. Yeah, there are people that are a problem. But the bigger problem to me is y’all don’t think either are a big enough problem.

Y’all are perfectly fine to sit down to dinner with these folks. Without saying or doing a goddamn thing.

Y’all go to church, y’all go to synagogue, y’all go to temple, y’all pray over and over and over and over. For what? For who?

When you clearly believe the devil has more power than God. When you clearly worship those who do bad versus those who do good.

And that’s a really tricky slope. I understand only God can judge. But let’s not get caught up in nuances here. Some things are pretty simple.

It’s your choosing the oppressors over the oppressed. That’s what infuriates me.

Especially when you have the audacity to do so in the name of God. As if praying and tithing is enough. And excuses you.

Your cowardness infuriates me. Point blank period.

I’m not angry and depressed for no reason. There are probably over six billion reasons just to get started.

I.e. the majority of people who just sit and stare. Watching as others are slaughtered right in front of them.

Doing absolutely nothing about it. At best.

Colluding, enabling, covering it all up, and then blaming and gaslighting the victims at worst. If they manage to avoid directly participating.

It would be one thing if these people were direct and up front. But no, what infuriates me is this is all done in the name of Jesus.

I’m depressed not so much because of Hitler. But more so because an entire continent of people participated in annihilating their neighbors. And then thinking they could avoid responsibility by blaming one man.

I’m not depressed so much because of Hitler. I’m depressed because one by one people boarded the trains without fighting back. And then the same thing happens today. Over and over. People submit and comply without advocating for themselves.

All for what?! Why?!

So we just give up and let evil win? In the name of Jesus? In the name of God? That’s YOUR legacy?

I’m not depressed for no reason.

When you read about what was done to slaves. And then realize there were a lot of comfortable people on the sidelines watching it all happen. Doing nothing while it all went down.

And then it happens again in different ways all around us still today. People still okay to turn a blind eye because they’re profiting off other people’s unending pain.

At least y’all could vote with your money. But no, let’s be lazy and dig our heads into the sand. Willingly.

I’m not depressed so much because there are people out there raping children over and over and over and over. All hours of the day and night. If it was just a few people out there doing it then the problem could be solved. But no, I am intensely angry and depressed that there are billions of people idly standing by and letting it all happen day in and day out. And then denying it’s happening. And then blaming the victims for daring to acknowledge it’s happening. And then acting like victims are the problem if they dare to express anger about it all. Or any emotion other than positivity in the face of so much crime.

That’s what I’m pissed about.

That all y’all think so little of God that you’re completely cool with Their kids getting eaten alive. Specifically while you do nothing about it.

And even worse then go on to contribute to the child’s demise by completely invalidating them.

How am I supposed to feel motivated to contribute to that kind of society? How am I supposed to be happy when all that’s going on?

Just pretend it’s not all happening all around us? Like y’all do? That’s the most toxic positivity bullshit ever. That cowardness. Clearly doing nothing to solve the problems.

I can’t stop the predators. I’m not that strong. But I don’t have to further traumatize the victims by acting like nothing is going on. Or enabling predators when I know what’s going on.

And am I perfect in that? No. But at least I fucking try. Which is way more than most of you do.

Where y’all believe in the power of the devil more than the power of God. Your actions and lack of action clearly proves it.

Not just once. But minute after minute. Hour after hour. Day after day. Year after year. Decade after decade.

The abuser may have acted overtly a number of times. But the crime of your lack of support, your lack of action has been going on 24 hours a day for decades.

You’ve had all this time and you continue to do nothing. You continue to reject your responsibilities. Your crimes of inaction continue even when the active threats have stopped.

That’s why you are hated and despised. Because you have the power to do some very important things. But you refuse to do anything. And thereby continue to make things worse.

In short, because you refuse to care. Which is not Love at all.

You continue to choose the side of the abusers. And then want us to act like you aren’t. Like we’re just supposed to ignore everything and let you off the hook.

Maybe because that’s what you did to everyone who hurt you.

But how is that doing anyone any good?

Forgiveness is not me saying any of that is okay.

Forgiveness is me not ripping your head off every single day when you all completely deserve it.

I’m so sick of forgiveness. I’m sick of everyone just taking my forgiveness for granted day in and day out for year after year after fucking year. And then telling me forgiveness should mean I can’t even talk about it.

Fuck that. And fuck you.

Fuck all the people who do nothing. Who watch all this evil going down and then do nothing. Except tell the victims to shut up, “forgive”, don’t dare say or do anything to acknowledge what’s been going on, and continue to lay down.

Fuck all the people who continue telling the victims to sacrifice themselves to the predators so nobody has to step up and do anything. Or even dare feel uncomfortable.

It’s all fucking bullshit. It’s all a disaster. It’s all depressing.

And the best you can do is tell me I’m wrong for feeling angry and daring to express my thoughts about it all.

Fuck you and your cowardice. Fuck all of you cowards.

I hope you choke on that damn Bible and every other religious text you use to justify your lack of action. And your silence. And the way you continue to traumatize those who are hurting. All in the name of God.

It’s fucking bullshit.

And anything else you say or do other than step up falls on deaf ears. And frankly is insulting.

You’re not the victim because people hold you accountable. You’re not a victim because people express their thoughts and feelings about you and your lack of action.

You don’t get a pass just because you’re passing on what was done to you. It doesn’t work like that.

Just because you didn’t hold anyone accountable doesn’t mean you deserve for nobody to hold you accountable. That’s more bullshit. Not a solution to all this shit.

Just because you didn’t express your anger and other thoughts and feelings about what was done to you doesn’t mean anyone else is wrong for doing otherwise. Expecting others to eat shit just because you did is more of that bullshit. And I’m not here for it. Even if everyone else complies with your demands.

I was NEVER taught to advocate for myself. The fact that y’all think that I have more audacity to protect myself than other people do to hurt me – that’s the whole damn problem. The whole sickness. That I am COMPLETELY tired of.

That the best you want for me is to quietly lay down and die.

And then expect me to be thankful and “positive”. Or else I’m the problem. I’m the one you shun. Not the predators.

That’s not forgiveness. That’s some fucking bullshit.

But clearly I can talk until I’m blue in the face. And nothing will change. Except I get beat up. So fuck even posting this. It’s all for naught. People have to get sick of it in their own time I guess. Even the victims. They’ll sometimes be the first to throw me under the bus.

I’m not here for that anymore. I guess distancing myself even from the conversation is better for me now. Since I retraumatize myself every time I put my heart out there for them to crush.

Nobody cares enough. Until they do. And that time is clearly not now. How many times do I have to get punched and kicked in the gut before I get that through my head.

Only God can change them. I’m done.

You want the Truth. I do too. But the Truth isn’t in calling people out.

They actually love that shit. They can’t get good-enough attention. So they revel in messing anyone else up so much as to take up any space in another’s mind. You give them glee when you address them publicly.

No, that isn’t the Truth. That’s getting caught up in the trap.

Enough people already know what’s up. The others don’t want to see. Even if you showed them to their faces, they’d still make excuses.

Sad. Sad is what it all is. As much as it is maddening.

I don’t fall for the rhetoric. The talk of all these Goliaths.

It’s not that these terrible things happening doesn’t matter. Of course people being hurt matters.

But what’s the bigger picture?
What’s the bigger point?

If it’s us versus them then we’re caught up again. Just on a different side. Or a different level.

That can’t be it. That can’t be the story.

As much as I wish it was. Because that would be so simple. So cut and dry. Just swing the axe and cut ’em all off at the knees.

But Who do we REALLY worship?

I’m not saying have no boundaries. Boundaries are so important. As is discipline. It’s not Loving to enable someone’s demise. On either side.

But what is the language we’re using?
And more importantly, our hearts?

For healing? Of ALL?

As if we really are one body?
The head being Christ.
As we suppose.
As we claim we preach?

I find it very interesting that Jesus said the only sign we get is Jonah. Jonah of all people.

Jonah whose people were also decimated.
And then what does God ask Jonah to do?

That’s us. If you need an us.

I wonder if God sent Jonah on that mission BEFORE Jonah’s people were restored. IF they EVER were restored.

I thought of John the Baptist this week. How did his life end?

John cried out to Christ.
No deliverance came.

I bet those disciples who were martyred also cried out in Jesus’ name.
Just like we do.
But they weren’t delivered here either.

Jesus showed up for some.
He raised some from the dead.
But those He kept closest took some pretty brutal falls.

What does it all mean?

This is that stumbling block: Christ crucified.

Versus Christ in a three-piece suit speaking to a sold-out crowd and social media. Collecting donations to buy a big ol’ mansion, a Land Rover, and trips to the Maldives on private jets.

Would Jesus tell Epstein that He Loves him? Of course. And frankly it pains me to say that. But it’s true. Hitler, also.

Without a change in behavior. Without paying for what they’ve done. As in restoring to those they stole so horrendously from.

Of course I’d rather not say that.

Even more difficult when it’s those that tore through and ran over me.

And you.

And so many others day after day.
Flagrantly.
Without much reserve at all. Seemingly never losing sleep or skipping a beat. Not an eyelash batted as they launch artillery after artillery our ways.

Is that all? For ever?
Does this story ever end?
In a way we can look forward to? Genuinely. Without abandoning our God-given intellect.

All I hear in my spirit is: God tells me no all the time. And judgement begins in the house of the Lord.

For those of us who insist, despite His warning, that we have something to preach to others. Of course we’re going to be first. We prayed for this. “Refine me, Lord.” And then there is heat and fire.

Oh, my bad – you expected the Americanized version of some spiritual spa vacation? That’s not your Messiah, honey. That’s not the type of sheep we’re working with here.

Did you forget the whip across His back? The thorns shoved into His head? The nails slammed into His palms? The rough and terribly heavy Cross He had to carry up an incline while being jeered at, mocked, spit upon, and probably whipped and beaten the whole way?

Did you forget how His whole body was suspended naked in the air for all to shame? His feet pierced by how big of a spike? Have you ever had someone stick a spear in your side to see if you were still alive?

This is no pink and rose-gold supper club where we take group pics with coordinated journals, sisters. Which Jesus did you actually sign up for?

The Jesus that challenged you to also pick up your cross? Is that the Jesus you really want?

I have to ask myself these things.

And yet, where is the line between enabling abuse and ending up with your head on some rich sick bitch’s plate? To be laughed at. As if this Jesus couldn’t have knocked them all out with a hint of a breath.

I now hate when people try to assuage all my fears by categorically saying Jesus will save me. Where is your evidence for that? Be honest. There’s a lot of proof otherwise. A lot of people die every day without being redeemed or rescued here on this earth.

Again, I ask You Jesus, what joy was before You? Because I believe You, but I don’t see it.

And I need SOMETHING to make sense these days. I need SOMETHING real to hold onto.

I guess the answer is and always will be The Cross. That we have NOTHING to be afraid of when it comes to You. And that is enough even if I don’t understand anything else. You clearly Love(d) me. Just in that.

So how many more crosses am I going to ask You to jump on before I Live as if You really are I AM?

How many more times am I going to ask You to prove Yourself to me? To us?

When maybe what we really need is to prove ourselves to each other. Stop waiting for divine intervention when there is so much we could be endlessly busy with in the interim.

Now Love in action might actually be worth associating with Jesus’ name. Even if we start with just Loving ourselves.

Be sure that I’m the last person, now, to approve of abuse in the name of Jesus. That to me is sacrilege. That to me is anti-Christ. Absolutely blasphemy of the worst kind. To associate abuse with Jesus who Loves the little children – without being a perv about it. (Or else I pray there is no God. Yes, of course that serious.)

I go back again to: God tells me no all the time.

So it isn’t Loving to give people permission to run all over us. To create little monsters, little demons by gloryifyng cowardness.

But where is the line between that and then getting our heads chopped off because we thought the point was calling people out over even legitimate things?

The point isn’t who is in and who is out. That can’t be it.

I still think the point is healing. But we’re already 5,000 years in at least probably. And still I see so many that behave as if they are worse than feral. Is God really that long-suffering?

I’m scared if our fate is just to have our spirits recycled here until we get it. Until we learn the lesson.

Not just for ourselves. But for the whole planet. Until every last little bit is back to the Garden of Eden. By our own hands. Sans the “miracles” we’re always waiting for.

What if we fast-forward a few thousand MORE generations. And almost all of us have been restored by then. If actual healing is the point and plan.

But there’s that one last soul. Say even Satan to make the point.

And ALL of humanity hears about that one last spirit who just hasn’t turned the corner yet.

But we all get it. And instead of rushing to chop them out of all the equations, instead we have learned and all rush in like doctors when an emergency code gets thrown. We all rush in with healing.

Not the kind of symptom-suppressants that pass for the lowest standard of care in order to raid the taxpayers’ coffers. But REAL care. Actual healing.

Would even the worst be able to resist the whole world coming to Love them back to that kind of wholeness?

I’m not talking victims locked in the horribly destructive false guilt of trauma bonds. Although whose to say a truly healed victim might not have the most to say?

But just bring it back to the basics. What if someone, for example, was a serial killer. And instead of the whole world doing what they do now, in some super-future there is a healed majority that rushes in like doctors to a baby going code blue. Even for a serial killer. And we throw them on a stretcher and run them m through all the available modalities until there is healing. Without end, Amen.

What would a world like that look like?

What if THAT is the joy set before Jesus?

That not only do the prodigals never get abandoned, but maybe their self-righteous brothers need them to keep fucking up until we decide we’re completely tired of being on this same damn hamster wheel?

Would I ever blame us for people being abused? No, it can’t work that way. Or else this is all very sick.

The only way I can stomach a God who allows all this is to think maybe what’s on the other side pales in comparison.

Or maybe in some horrible nightmare none of this is thankfully even really happening. That’s a hope. Not so much a simulation. But us being so deep in a nightmare that all THIS actually isn’t happening in a physically real way on the cosmic scale.

Not to invalidate anyone’s pain. Obviously. Just to try to make sense of somehow a God “allowing” all of this pain to go down day after day, eon after eon. It would be a great grace if this all was just an experienced illusion of some sort. Our minds existing here while at least our spirits are able to travel back and forth from here to wherever is on the other side.

But what keeps me awake at night is that we very-well may only get one time here. One chance to make the most of it. And then what do we have to show for ourselves? “Yeah, God – I spent a lot of years just watching commercials on television.”

What if saving everyone is all up to us? For everything. From ourselves, to the greedy CEO, to the last little squirrel in the forest. And then even every leaf. Every living cell in the whole Earth. And even the Cosmos.

Because God has given us more agency than we’ve ever been told. So this Life actually could be better if we’d all just get on board.

But how many will have to continue to suffer before we collectively decide we’ve had enough?

What if we’re never getting off this ride until we decide to approach this ALL as a body to be put back together rather than repeatedly torn apart?

It scares me. To think that I am you. And you are me. So whatever I wish for you is exactly what I am wishing for myself.

But what if that’s reality? What if none of us gets out of this until we all come to that conclusion? Terrifying.

It makes sense to me. In a dreadful way. Would God co-sign a person who engages in self-harm? If your theology requires you to take every last word of a collection of religious texts literally then maybe you’re part of holding us all back. But me, I see things quite simply: the common sense you so diligently resist. That God never lets me off the hook in terms of giving up on myself.

So why would I think Trinity would co-sign on any of us giving up on each other?

I don’t think the point is some pie-in-the-sky get-out-of-jail-free card. I don’t think we’re that “lucky”. I think Trinity has way much more respect for us and all of Creation than that. Unfortunately – if you’re hell-bent on resisting that.

Look at Moses. God let him wander around and around and around. As many laps as it took. He supposedly saw God face to face. And HE didn’t get off the hook. He still didn’t get to enter his rest because he was so stuck on misrepresenting God to His kids.

That’s what stops me dead in my tracks. The “sign” of Moses. That if we’re sending any other message than God Loves even those that hurt us – then here we go for how many more rounds around the desert? Insisting until our bodies give out on this side? Just to have to come back and do it all over again?!?! Like nothing. What if the heat is turned up even more the next time? Whose betting on those chances when it comes to God? The majority apparently.

But again, Spirit doesn’t talk to me about them. Spirit is patient with however long I want to take. In getting to the point.

Being honest – that’s a requirement. Healing doesn’t happen through performative acting. This isn’t like those employment personality tests. Where you get the job just because you know the right answers. Again, a very American approach to The Creator of everything Living, and not, as far as the eye can see or imagine.

All this and my words are naught. Bible babble as my biological father likes to throw in my face. Maybe so. But I guess you gotta start somewhere.

Weeping and gnashing of teeth. I’d rather do it on this side. Than spend my whole time here just to… on the other side. Or worse: all over again back here.

House always wins. I don’t believe in a literal fiery hell. But I believe there is a lot worse fate to be considered. In terms of suffering. When the whole world delays debridement until the wound is so infected that everything is put on hold just to bring us all back to something that looks like REAL Life.

Which side will we choose? Leaning in? Or drawing it out as long as possible?

All my words are foolishness when I have so much action to catch up on.

My biological parents were raised religious. My father’s family was good ol’ Irish Catholics. My mother’s family was stereotypical English Protestants – Presbyterians to be exact. And the kind of Presbyterians where the particular strain mattered. Apparently there were “good” Presbyterians and “bad” Presbyterians. Bad meaning way more liberal.

I remember visiting my mother’s father’s church. The kind where I better wear pantyhose and even a slip. That’s what I remember being so important. Make sure you’re dressed up and polite. Look the part.

There was a choir. And my grandfather had something to do with counting the monetary donations.

My father’s father died before I was born. But his mother was very religious. And I always remember it being a thing. We weren’t good enough with either side. Not Presbyterian enough. And not Catholic enough. Always a point of contention. As long as I can remember. The fact that my parents were married at all meant someone was always disappointed in us. The story goes that my grandfather wouldn’t give my father his blessing to marry my mother unless he converted. Just say the magic words and suddenly you’re a good candidate for marriage because you switched up your religious allegiance.

If only all it took were magic words.

Suffice to say from the start my parents were oil and water. In more ways than one.

But somewhere along the line they ended up in the Baptist denomination. That I remember well. I was being prayed for before I ever left the womb. A baby book proved it – what sounded like little ol’ church ladies saying prayers for me before I was even born. That’s how early my indoctrination goes back. I can’t ever remember a time where I didn’t know of God. And also consider myself Christian.

Even before my father led me through the “sinner’s prayer” in urgency one day while we lived in Germany. In my heart I already knew I belonged. But here was an authoritative adult very seriously sitting me down in front of other people. And telling me that I’d go to hell if I didn’t make a confession of allegiance to God the formal way. Okay, nothing lost – fine. I did it. Then some Sunday went and got dunked in front of everyone in a tub. Baptized. No sweat off my brow. I meant it for sure. But deep down I knew all the confessions and baptisms were performative. I inherently knew that what mattered was what was in your heart. And your actions.

If only I remembered the rest of my life.

---

I think we were part of what people refer to at least now as fundamentalists. Maybe fundamentalist Baptists to be more specific. All I know is there were endless rules and fear.

Somehow my parents ended up in Lynchburg Virginia – where I was born. I remember hearing the name Jerry Falwell. I remember hearing the name Lester Roloff. I was so young that I don’t remember specifics. But when people talk about the Bill Gothard and the Institute of Basic Life Principles, I can relate to almost everything they say. My mother homeschooled me on the A Beka curriculum and the tenets of our faith were drilled into me all day every day from the time I can remember.

The Bible was considered the literal Word of God. And as such, it was perfect. Or as they referred to it: inerrant. It was the authority

---

I remember being put into a church school when I was really little. Like probably before first grade. In the United States. Some kind of school where I had to wear a uniform to school. A little white blouse with a blue romper-esque dress over top. I think I had to wear little socks and saddleback shoes. My hair in barrettes.

I hated going to that school. Because my mother just dropped me off one day and I didn’t know anyone. I was so little. I was scared to death. I know it was the times back then so I don’t blame my mother. But these days that thought horrifies me. Just dropping my child off with complete strangers. For hours. I mean maybe she knew them, but I certainly didn’t. I just remember being terrified. Sucking my fingers and just hoping to hide. Counting down the minutes that I had to be there.

This has always been a problem for me. No roots. None. What little I had was taken from me. Always the new kid. Always trying to figure out what is going on. Always trying to figure out where I fit in.

Just because people say they are Christians, does not mean they are vetted enough to just trust your very small children with. Not in an ideal community. An ideal life.

---

I was born in Virginia. My parents took me to Corpus Christi, Texas. And then at some point my dad, probably pressured by my mother – in order to provide more money and financial stability, joined the Army. And somehow we ended up near Boston. That’s where my brother was born. I think before he was born my mother, my father, and I took a trip to New York City to visit my mother’s aunt. She was or had been a missionary to Ethiopia. Quite a long way and very far removed from the United States back then compared to now. Quite the “accomplishment”. At least in my book.

I was cutting off the wrong one.

I loved you too much. So much that all these years I’d rather have killed myself than be without you.

Maybe I’m finally tired of that shit. Maybe it’s time for me to LIVE!!! As more than just a shadow of you. 

I tried to make myself so damn small for you that I all but disappeared. All that was left was a ghostly empty shell of my presence. 

Seething inside. With all the emotions you’d rather die than deal with. 

It’s not on me if you don’t try. If you don’t do the work. If you continue hiding behind all that bullshit. 

I’m done needing your validation. I’m done needing you to be okay with me. I’m done trying to drag your dead bodies along with me everywhere I go. Just because it’s that damn hard for me to let you all go.

This whole time I refused to die. So this should be no surprise. Just a long time coming. 

Yeah, fuck giving up on me. That was the wrong choice. 

Unfortunately I see now that I gotta give up on you. 

Back, bitches. 

Deal with it. Or not. 

Almost got me. 

But I finally see. 

Ironic that I’d never gotten this far if you hadn’t kept pushing relentlessly.  Now my turn to press the pedal down to the floor. Except not for you anymore. This time just for me.

My heart goes out to you.

I don’t think you’re weak or whining. I think you are brave and courageous to be able to talk about things that most people can’t even admit.

I now see questions as invitations. For closer connection to Christ. Who really does care about us. Especially when we are reeling – and I’ve certainly been there. Much.

First of all, for all the people who can’t handle my emotions, I am not suicidal. I have no desire or plan to kill myself.

But, I give up. I have given up. 

This is my notice to God that I need a better life. I now put the responsibility out of my hands and directly into God’s hands. Going forward I am now putting the blame on God if my life and this world does not get any better in my lifetime.

Back in 2017 I had a job I liked. In the field I wanted to be in. It was almost perfect. But then the company went out of business. It was the nail in the coffin on the rest of my life falling apart.

My response? I blamed myself. Primarily: maybe if I just had more faith. Or maybe if I just worked harder.

The last eight years I have been on a non-stop hamster wheel. A few thousand rounds around the desert, if you will. Cycling between trying to work harder and trying to have more faith. 

For what? My life is worse than when I started. Every path a dead end.

So I give up. And I now blame God. 

I am no longer taking responsibility for shit. I am no longer trying to save everyone. Even myself.

It’s no big deal for God to provide what little I’m asking for.

I felt guilty back then. In 2017. After my employer went out of business. Because that whole year before I had been asking God for the time and money to take off for a whole year and write a specific book. 

When my employer went out of business, I took that as I gotta prove myself to God. That I had enough faith to write without the money. 

Well, fuck that. I no longer have faith in my faith. Yeah, God could do it. Easily. I no longer think it depends on me.

If anything, I think God might have been holding off this whole time specifically so that I would give up. And stop trying to shoulder the whole damn world. Or even just myself. 

The “good news” can’t be that only the strong survive. The “good news” can’t be that only those with enough faith in their own strength and abilities are going to make it.

That was the whole point. Jesus goes after the one little sheep that can’t keep up. 

I’m finally done with this hustle culture, bro. I’m done listening to podcasts. I’m done reading books. I’m done disciplining myself. I’m done trying harder. I’m done suppressing my thoughts and emotions just to appear like I’m coifed and unbothered. 

Like my shit don’t stink just as much as y’alls does too. 

I’m done with being invested in this nothing-ass life if God isn’t going to show up and make it any better. 

I’m not asking for anything too difficult for God. I’m asking for the basics.

I’m done trying to lose weight. I’m done stressing over trying to get my career fixed. I’m done trying to fix my relationships. All of ’em: friends, family, church, community. 

I’m done trying to convince anyone anymore that I think God is better than we’ve been sold/told. God can handle that mighty fine all on Their own.

I’m done trying to prove myself to anyone. I’m not a horrible person. And fuck anyone who thinks so. Sure, I fuck up – but not near the amount of other people y’all tolerate. And fuck y’all for trying to make me feel bad about myself. 

I’m not losing weight for noone anymore. Perfectly fine if y’all want someone different. God bless y’all in that. But again, I know I’m not a shitty person. And fuck anyone for looking down on me just because I’m fat. When I have a whole lot more to offer than some superficial bullshit. I’m fat because I don’t have any safety in this fucked up society. That’s number one. Start there first.

Fuck y’all for thinking I can’t do shit just because I don’t have the money to pay for higher education. I’m able and have proven I’m competent enough. I’m not taking another goddamn personality test to do an entry-level job. I’d love to go back to school and get as much as I can. But I don’t have tens of thousands of dollars for that. Or the time to focus. And I’m tired of being in debt. If I can fucking teach myself Python then I can very goddamnwell figure out a fucking Excel formula. If these folks would get their heads out their asses and give me a chance. But so be it if not. Perfectly fine whatever their perogative. Again, God is well-able to give me the job I want and need.

Fuck social media. The Internet is dead. AI content was the nail in the coffin. Noone wants that shit. We’re farther apart than ever. I’m done participating. Or contributing. They killed radio first. Then television. And now the Internet. Never fucking learn. So damn short-sighted. Cut off their noses to spite their faces.

Same for every other company out there being so fucking evil. In seeing the people suffer. And doing nothing about it. Other than to squeeze every last drop of blood out of anyone still sticking around. Fuck that shit. I blame God if it doesn’t get better or fixed. I’m no longer delusional or taking on the responsibility to fix that. When the oppressors basically have unlimited ammunition. I give up on that.

Just to name a few.

When there is SO much more. 

I’m not even interested in writing anymore. Not until my bullshit-ass life gets fixed. I don’t have any happiness anymore to share. I see no more hope unless God steps in.

And God could. That’s not a big ask. 

The only faith I have left is maybe God was waiting on us to get to this point. So we didn’t think striving was the solution. And continue wielding around that tone-deaf miserable advice to even one more that is hurting. 

I’m guilty. I used to tell everyone “never give up”. With no qualifications. 

Yeah, fuck all that.

God met me where I needed healing. Stopped me dead in my tracks. Over and over. Until I finally now surrender. Years later.

I am so sorry. My apologies to everyone for my complete ignorance. I meant well. But yeah, I just hadn’t exhausted my youthful ignorant “strength” yet.

Now I have.

Took me damn long enough. 

Now it’s all on You, God. 

I need a better Life. 
I need better Love.
I need so much more.

Including a bigger and better God than the one I was selling y’all before. 

Cause this is some horrendous bullshit we’re in. 

And I need A LOT more than I was previously settling for. From others. From myself. And even from God.

Until then, just giving up on anything more than food in my mouth and a warm, dry place with a shower to sleep every night. 

Everything else can go to hell. 
Until God chooses to fix all this shit.

Mark my words. This is all I have left to say until that time.

Here’s a song from my heart.

The bone cold winters you rolled over us,
We look and we look for your carcass,
But even though you kill everyone else,
For some reason you never die.
And all you left us was keep asking God, “Why?”

I no longer care for talk of Love,
Even if they say it exists above.

I’ll never have peace until you are dead,
Yet they say I’m the one sick in the head.

Because I think it’s important kids don’t get hurt,
Their faces pushed down,
They hearts stomped around,
Their souls black and blue…

Meanwhile you…

Get off scott free,
Feast after feast.
Full to the slimy fat gills.
Of yourself and everyone else.

And we…
Hungry.
Homeless.
Hopeless.

Where are You, Big King Jesus?

No more hustle over here.
No more positive self-talk.

Where are You, this supposed God I’m supposed to believe in?

For what?

Some pie in the sky on the other side?
Someday?

That’s what all these years are for? 
Just to fly away after being completely used up by those that don’t give any damns?

I’m not a good person. 
I’m tired of laying down…
My whole damn life.

When is it our turn?
When will it EVER be our turn?
Goddamn it!

It’s not just the Internet that’s dead.

I don’t know what joy was before You, Messiah.
But I don’t see the point at all from this perspective.

It’s been 2,000 years at least, right?
For this?!
Just for this?!

At what point do we just call it?

When will You show up, God?
Will you ever be there for Your children?
More than just watching us suffer from afar?
Day after day.

Us who keep turning the cheek over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over, in YOUR name. For this?!

For this?!

Oh, great – we work our whole lives just to end up exactly like them? That’s the point? 

Yay, horrible stuff leaves people completely fucked up. We really needed to know that so bad? Before anything else? Or forever? I don’t get it.

Is there nothing else to look forward to? 
Without more children dying?

I don’t want victory. 
I want peace.
I want happiness.
I want real hope.

Not just endless stupid dreams. That make me a complete damn fool to everyone else time and time again. In Your name, mind You, King Jesus.

That’s what’s so goddamn important? Cutting me down to size until there’s nothing left? While they keep bulldozing over everyone so unfortunate to meet them? That’s what’s so goddamn important?

I don’t get it anymore.
I’m tired of theories and theology.
I’m tired of psychology. 
I’m tired of philosophy.

I need some action.
A goddamn miracle. 
Or 5,000.

How’s that for Truth and honesty?