Newsflash From “Heaven”: I’ve Descended Into “Hell”

There’s something that makes every one of us on this Earth question things that we don’t understand, can’t understand or just simply refuse to…Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that it’s safe to say that the concept of religion has always been something that’s second-guessed or questioned.

And if I question that, then what kind of person does that make me?

I honestly never used to question religion. It just wasn’t something that was questioned. You just go with it, and think that it’s something you personally believe. After awhile, it’s all you’re willing to believe. No one can change your mind; your heart is set on that way of life. It can turn you into something you’re truly not, while on the other hand can bring a whole new perspective on things. Which ever you may choose, there’s always questions that will arise that are going to make some wonder and others won’t even pay attention to.

I first started to question religion, being the foundation for my day-in, day-out education at school. I’d been at a Catholic school from Kindergarten to the first half of the 6th grade, and being at a Catholic school, I’d have to go to church every Friday with the rest of my class. There wasn’t an option of not going, and I honestly didn’t mind. We would be rewarded if we were good, anyway. I remember in Kindergarten, I literally thought the priest at my school’s church was a cannibal. I literally thought that when he said the “body and blood”, he really did mean the body and blood of someone. How crazy is that? Really?

What kind of person does that make me?

I began to ask questions about the religion that I’d learned about five days a week and sometimes on Sundays. Whether the questions made sense or not, I have no idea. They probably made absolutely no sense, the reason why no one could give me a straight answer. The questions made all the sense to me though. If Jesus died for everyone’s sins, why do people still sin? I distinctly remember that was one of the questions I’d asked. Yeah, a pretty stupid question. All my teachers probably thought it was, or maybe they thought I was crazy or something. I look back on that now, and think that it was a pretty foolish, but it also makes me realize that any other outrageous question I had would be let right in with all the eagerness, only to be shot down for being utterly stupid.

Now what does all this grade-school reminiscing have to do with my feelings toward religion now? It proves that there are questions that either can’t be answered or are being pushed under the rug. Let’s face it, who wants to believe in something that can’t be answered or proven? I don’t mean to judge anyone here. What the next person believes may not be what I believe, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna jump down their throats about it. That would just be ignorant, and I absolutely hate ignorance. People are more than entitled to have their own beliefs and opinions, despite what other individuals think or say. I firmly believe in that, and truly have the utmost respect for that fact.

I would be much more comfortable knowing that what I’m believing in is, well, worth believing in. Sometimes, I believed that there possibly could be a God, but there are things that come in the way me truly accepting that fact. There are facts and reasonings that are so hypocritical and no way near logical. Say one thing and it doesn’t add up to what’s being said next…Yeah, that makes a hell of a lot of sense…I myself have a hard time agreeing and believing everything I hear because it all just doesn’t sit right with me as a whole. I suppose somethings could be plausible, but that still leaves others unaccounted for and to me, that isn’t good enough.

What kind of person does that make me?

I’ve been asking that question all though this post…What kind of person does that make me? Honestly, it makes me a goddamn human being. Most would say that questions and questioning isn’t the way to go because it will either get you nowhere or everywhere you don’t want to be, but I don’t find that the case. People don’t know if there is indeed a ‘Heaven’ or ‘Hell’ because no one has ever been there. Some are so fixated on something they’ve been feed throughout the years or what have you, and can’t comprehend that maybe there isn’t anything after you die. Maybe there is just nothingness, a creeping sense of darkness that’s just out of our reach with every passing second. Maybe not. ..Does death scare me? Damn right it does. Do I believe in something after death? I’m not sure. There could be something amazing beyond anything we’ve ever seen above and something else amazing in quite another sense of the word way down below, but who am I to know? Exactly. I have absolutely no idea and I think it’s best that way.

If people really (and I mean really truly) knew what happens when you die, they wouldn’t take any risks. If people knew what happened when you die, they wouldn’t be living. The entire point of living is taking risks and taking whatever comes at you, not matter the speeds or intensities. I think that knowing where you’re going to go when you die, totally dictates one’s risk-taking and therefore the entire concept of Life. Some people live that way already out of faith or whatever you choose, and that is entirely their choice. I have absolutely nothing against people with healthy convictions in what they believe in. I think it’s the best thing in the world, please just don’t try to press it on me. While some completely discreet and totally polite about brandishing their beliefs, not pressuring others at all, there are other people that think they know everything that the afterlife has to offer (or religion in general for that matter), down to every detail and I personally don’t believe any of it. Yeah, that probably sounds pretty bad, but notice the things I’ve said so far. My brutal, honest opinion.

I honestly don’t believe what people have to say about what it will be like when you die because they don’t know, they’ve never been there. No one knows, no ones ever been there. Unless of course with the exception of a near-death experience, that’s the closest thing to the afterlife you can get without feeling death unfortunately pull you out of this natural life permanently. Other than that exception, I don’t believe.

I love how the subject goes from the disbelief concerning religion to the disbelief an afterlife. They’re two different subjects that sometimes (maybe more often than none) become intertwined and discussed on the same playing field. I suppose that this is no exception to the conversations on the subjects that came before it. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I honestly don’t know.

When all is said and done, I just don’t believe…Yeah, it might sound like I’m just another teenager (technically I’m not really a teenager anymore, but whatever) who listens to death metal and is ‘brainwashed’ by the ‘Satanic’ lyrics, but I’m here to clarify. While I do listen to my fair shares of black/death/heavy metal, my musical preferences in no way impact my views on religion or the afterlife, as which was mentioned earlier…Or rather there isn’t anything good enough for me to believe in. That probably sounds pretty arrogant and whether arrogance plays a part at all or not, it’s true. I don’t think it’s that there’s nothing good enough for me to believe but actually nothing I feel comfortable really believing in. Hopefully there will come a time when I find something that I indeed feel comfortable enough with to believe in without questioning or second-guessing. Until then, only time will tell.

So I ask you now, as I’ve been asking throughout this entire post…

What kind of person does that make me?

Newsflash from “Heaven”: I’ve surely descended into “Hell”.

Old School Love Affair

I know I’ve said this before. Friends can suck. Old school friends can suck. You think that you’ll be friends ‘forever’ until one or all of them become stupid and ignorant. I’ve said this before. I know I have.

The friends I knew in junior high are totally different people.  Whether I talk to all of them or not. I know this all too well.  When I first met them, it seemed automatic, be nice to the new girl or something. I thought that maybe it was just a phase or nice gesture that wouldn’t last. It did last, though. Something connected us and, at the time, no one could break that. Most of my friends then were guys, with the exception of one girl, and no, it was nothing like what you’re probably thinking. At the school I’d went to before, all my friends were girls, so it was kind of weird that most of my friends at my new school were guys.

Back then, some 5 or 6 years ago, we were the greatest of friends. There was this kind of camaraderie between all my friends and I. Honestly, I sometimes miss that. Other times, I just get sick that I even knew those people then, and that I know them now. Or at least I think I know them. It’s amazing what you can learn about people, or how annoyed you can become with people you’ve known long enough to the point that it’s ok to become annoyed by something they say or do. Sometimes, it just gets to that point.

Needless to say, as I’ve already pretty much stated, I miss the old school camaraderie my friends and I once shared. Before we all went our separate ways. Before two of them became wrapped up in the ever-so-popular party scene. Before one of them changed completely. Before one of them became incredibly induced with the ‘love of their life’. Before one of them committed suicide…My God don’t you just adore today’s youth? I say it’s pretty appalling.

Friends can suck. Old school friends can suck even more. You know this. I know this. I’ve said this. I just did.

Lay in the wake of a friendship that will never die, or for some, die too quickly.

Happy?

Are you happy with the person you’ve turned into? Happy about the decisions you’ve made? Happy that you’re in with everyone else’s trend? Happy that you can say that you’ve been to that party, and gotten so drunk that you can’t remember what day it is? Yeah, I thought you would be.

I don’t know whether to be disappointed, ashamed, or disgusted by you. It’s that bad. I used to think that you would be an exception. You were so perfect, it made me choke. Now I choke on the person you’ve become. Does it make you happy that you can say you’ve been there? Are you happy to say that you’ve had so many boyfriends that you can’t remember where the last one ending and the new one begins? Happy that everyone talks about you behind your back? All the rumors that go around about what bitch you are. Hate to break it to ya, but they’re all true. Totally and completely true. I should know. We used to be the best of friends. That all changed. For the better.

Disappointed. Disgusted. Ashamed. I can say you make me feel all three. Disappointed, because I was stupid enough to be believe that you were better than this. Disgusted, because you’re so below everything you once were. Ashamed, because I actually cared and loved you enough to call you my best friend. Are you happy when you come to school, where you don’t even bother showing up anymore, to see your friends? Don’t think I don’t see your bloodshot eyes. I do. Everyone probably does. Are you happy that, when you are in school every now and then, you brag about the party you were at last night? How high you got? How drunk you were? I smile at how incredibly stupid you are. I don’t tell you what I think of you. You probably already know.

I’m even more DISAPPOINTED, DISGUSTED, and ASHAMED by you. I gave you a second chance, when I never should’ve called you my best friend in the first place, let alone my boyfriend. Are you happy that you probably go through girlfriends like a drug addict goes through his drug supply? Don’t try and deny it. Are you happy that you wasted an entire month with me? Lying. Are you happy that you were so high and drunk at a party that you spilled your heart to some random girl, only to be cheated on? Making your outlook on love dismal and distorted. The reason why you could never fully, truly love again. The reason why you can never love me. Or supposedly anyone else for that matter. Are you happy?

Is it safe to say that you’re happy? That you’re completely content with your life? The things you’ve done, with or without consequences…I don’t know about you, but I’m the happiest I’ll ever be at this point in time.

Is it safe to say that you’re happy? How many times do you need to ask yourselves before you settle with the truth?

Only true friends will be there till the end.