god, how do i make this shit stop? look at me, praying to a deity that i stopped having faith in when i was twelve. and everytime my life cleaves in two, i lift my face in the vague opposite direction from the earth’s core, hoping to find solace written in the stars. but they’re just celestial bodies, and i’m a terranic nobody. all that ever results from my silent but fervent pleading, is the birth of a migraine, pain from clenching my teeth (as if that would amplify my prayer beams. read: aluminum foiled tv.), and that omniscient silence that’s been so effing helpful providing food for the table. this is my interpretation of god. maybe satan implanted it in me, potted it in my pride, and watered it with futility. all i know is, god is the enemy. he takes credit for my work, and blames me for mine iniquities. he’s never there when i look, but always there when i don’t need him. kind of like a cat. god is a cat. and my ambivalence towards cats has taken a swift turn to planning out their deaths without getting caught. i will succeed without you, or die trying. or maybe i’ll just die to spite you, god/cat.