So this is heaven. Amidst the jousting and arm-wrestling braggadocio warriors, I fail to understand what it is I did, that merited me a place amongst them.
Perhaps, we exist in some sort of dreamy nether world, where every conscious that aided the furthering of the faith were allowed in. But why was I included?
Was I too harsh in advocating for my belief or rather the absence of one that I drived then away from common sense?
First of all, who has the gall to even construct this world? This pure sacrilege that even their God would spit on? Putting murderers and genocidal maniacs into a state of ecstasy they shouldn't deserve?
What am I talking about? "Deserve"? I suppose this has to be taken as it is. It is not wrong, I think, that they get to enjoy what they wanted for so long. I would have really preferred it, infact, the whole world would have preferred if they kept their belief to themselves.
Sadly, my critiques are to my detriment as I am guilty of the same. No one belief is right, is the only right belief, I reckon
The realm of zealots' ends, my final resting place it seems to be.
He was very friendly, infectiously enthusiastic and just an all-around fun guy. I won't lie in saying I envied him. One day, something happened. Something that I think I should not have been a part of. But perhaps I was. Something not good. Something to him.
I didn't see him a few days after the event. But then, he emerged. And never seems to leave me alone. Always wishing me well. Helping me in every turn of fate that puts me down. Being there for me when no-one else is.
I don't deserve him. One day, I take his life. But he reappears a minute later. Every time I kill him, he just slows down by a minute in his emergence. All I know is vindictive rage when I get rid of him. But it seems to never empty. When I finally killed him enough to have a day of peace, I realise.
He was my guilt. And he exists as long as I don't forgive myself. I am a good person, I just didn't accept it.
Minds make what they want to see, I think.