The downfall of religion will never happen. If it were to happen, it would take a massive betrayal of many gods. I am an atheist. My atheism does not come from science; it came from Humanism: the belief that we are that good and that bad. One thing that atheists will always have going for us is that we read their texts but they don’t read ours. But with that being said, I can understand the religious. Their desires are for meaning, to not stand alone in the dark, and (most importantly) to open an avenue of dialogue with this life that haunts us all.
When the tornado hits, the relgious man prays, the atheist reseigns. Who lives or who dies depends on the tornado, not your outlook. We all strive to survive. I am a firm believer that all good acts are never selfless and are means to self preservation but I will cop out here and leave that thought for other blogs.
I would love to talk to the universe, to tell it that it is being unfair. But I can’t. Even if nature did listen, it is impartial, the ultimate non-partisan. And that doesn’t jive with humans. When we deal with each other, we negotiate, we scheme. Nature is too big, too empowered for us to ever have that luxury with it.
I will never kneel before any god. But there are times where my resolve weakens and I wish for the chance. But I know that won’t happen because there is no god and I would only kneel before a cosmos that doesn’t care at all. Shit happens. And far too often it happens to those who are less deserving of a shitty deal than others who live their lives escaping one at every crooked step. I guess I want fairness but I can’t have it.
Perhaps the long and the short of it is my guilt. Why do others suffer when I do not? I do not think for a moment that the mental anguish I feel over this presumptuous question equals suffering in any way compared to those whom I think of. I must find a way, a human way, to explain why fairness just can’t exist for so many people who have done nothing to have it ripped from them.
stories of my life & city 
I struggle with religion and God having been raised in a home where God was.. well God. And yet, having had my heart unfairly ripped from me more than once, returned in a golden box only for a repeat, I sheepishly struggle with the fear that we are meant to feel (thanks church) and anger, forever teetering between thinking I am talking to myself and hoping that there might be someone listening who might hear what I have to say and be the proactive force that I am programmed to believe in.
I wonder if I am good enough sometimes and other times, I wonder if ‘listening to God’ is really selling myself short and not owning the fact that I might have some good ideas all on my own. I’ll work it out, I’m sure. I’m neither athiest or a true believer. It’s one of those things in the back of my mind that I think about too much when I’m driving. A primal part of me needs there to be God so that I’ll have someone to ask not to allow harm to my children, the reasonable parts of my own brain tells me to move forward and try and be smart, because maybe I am the only one who can protect them. That’s pretty scary.
Alright, look what you’ve done. I’m going to have to drown this one in a bottle of red.