Most people wouldn’t understand my decision. Everyone experiences the world through the filters of their experiences, values, and emotions. Sometimes I wonder why I bother saying anything anymore. We live in a world where few listen; most just relate everything back to themselves, How does all of this affect me?

I grew up in a loving Christian family. Perhaps having been raised in the Way of the Bible made me who I am today. But I have outgrown religion or the need for absolution or salvation. I’m pretty sure it would sadden many people around me. But hear me out. Put down your ego for once, and listen to what I have to say.

We live in the real world; an imperfect world. An unsavory amalgam of “good” and “evil”. Religion aims to “save” the world of evil. Every one cries the same cry: Follow me into a life of goodness. Everyone says they have the answers. Who is right?

Ask any one person that question, and they won’t hesitate to shovel their beliefs down your throat. I’ve been there; I’ve done that. I deeply regret. I remember a saying that goes something like “Flee from those who claim they have the answers.” That’s what I did, I fled.

I fled religion into the world—the one that they claimed was evil—and it opened my eyes. I saw corruption, promiscuity, uncontrolled anger, hate, and judgment. But I also saw honor, integrity, peacefulness, love, and acceptance. I looked back at people who claimed to bear the name of religion and saw the exact same thing. Clearly, there was something wrong. Where did the life-changingness of religion lie in? I asked the people I thought wiser than I, but none of their answers satisfied me.

All I heard was justification and excuses. The line dividing the religious and ungodly was all in the head. All in the head. People gravitated to the like-minded, and rejected those who opposed their ideology. Any attempt to “show love” always had an ulterior motive (whether they wanted to admit it or not): to make converts.

I am not disregarding the wisdom of the great Teachers. But because every one of us is naturally “egocentric”, all good intentions are lost and perverted. Even I doubted if what I learnt was the truth, but I soon realized it wouldn’t matter.

At that point I was disillusioned with the whole “religion poppycock”. I started to see the absurdity in it’s arguments—the same ones with years ago I fought so hard to defend. Where was the Love that they so fervently preached? Where was the goodness? The line that separated the religious and the non-religious disappeared. For once, I saw people for who they truly are: People.

When you climb up the fence and sit on it, you will truly be able to see the big picture. Both sides of the fences are exactly the same. That which divides people are merely superficial. Our biggest enemy wasn’t at all with “the others” or “Satan” or “desire”. It was “the Self”.

Everyone was projecting their flaws onto things other than themselves. “They” are the cause of the problem. Never “me”. To them, having “accepted the Truth”, they thought themselves absolved of guilt. The guilt they now bore was transferred to the violation of the “super-ego”, or “God”.

They never stopped being “egocentric”, instead they were “superegocentric”. Every thing they did was attributed to God, they wouldn’t have to bear responsibility for their actions. If you told them that what they were doing was wrong, they would refer you to the Bible and quote you passages to support their actions. Either that, or imagine up a colorful justification to acquit themselves.

The truth is, everyone lives the same way. Religious, or not. And that’s why I thought, take religion out of the picture and what has changed? Absolutely nothing. It is true that religion—the Truth—”sets you free”. But not in any metaphysical sense of the phrase. It was a clever marketing scheme.

Religion seemed like an excuse to problems. They called themselves Christians and spoke about love, but when they hated it was because they were “flawed human beings…but hey, don’t look at me! I’m not a perfect person. Look to God instead!” That’s your excuse? Really?

They had tried so hard to set themselves apart from everyone else, but it only served to drive them deeper into their close-mindedness. They couldn’t see it. The problem wasn’t with “sin” or “desire”, it was our Nature—a result of our upbringing, social, and environmental conditioning. Every one of us is a unique consequence. It was easier for me to begin accepting others for who they are; it was easier to Love.

I recognize that I am still human, and I fall short of the perfect standards that I set upon myself. But I do not justify away my shortcomings, nor do I explain away the hypocrisy of some of my actions. I admit I err at times. Even so, I do not believe there is absolution in solely seeking forgiveness, but acceptance that I have done wrong, and consequent action to remedy those wrongs.

There is no label for my beliefs. I am not a x-ist, or x-ian. I am a human being, on this Earth, whose purpose is to live to the fullest. The past, or future does not matter. The unknown no longer beckons an explanation. My religion is Love, and my purpose is Freedom. And it is on these two facets that my decisions are made.

Still, I appreciate my parents for raising me the way they did—with God’s love and goodness. I respect their dedication and their beliefs to the infinite God, although I do not personally believe in Him. Everyone has their purpose. They have found theirs and I have found mine. I am grateful that this hasn’t caused a rift between us despite our differences. I know they still love me.

Everyone experiences the world through the filters of their experiences, values, and emotions. Those who agree with me will understand how I feel; those who oppose, will disagree and perhaps try to convert me. I do not write this to rally supporters, or to stir up controversy. I am a man, and am just a man.

More than anything, I write this for myself and not for anyone else.

By the window, I sit. My heart is torn. Immeasurable anguish torments me—each though screaming for attention only to be overwhelmed by the next. The noise dies down to a static hum. They are still linger but my mind just shuts them out. It’s dark in here. The light doesn’t penetrate into here. It is my space—this darkness.

I hear the murmuring voices. Words tied to expectations; blame; anger; frustration, turn themselves into daggers. They cut me. I bleed. I don’t put up a fight. After all, this was what I asked for. I knew when I invited Happiness over, Melancholy would be tagging along. But Melancholy is in puberty—gorging my soul voraciously. I’m slowly losing myself; losing my mind.

I let her devour my self. A friend of Happiness is a friend of mine. And so I don’t complain, slowly watching as Melancholy rips me apart chunk by chunk. It’s painful, but I refuse to give in. As Happiness sits in the corner and watches her go at me, a grin forms on her visage. I draw strength from her pleasure. As long as she’s happy.

The daggers keep coming; Melancholy keeps eating, but Happiness’ smile is fading. I look at myself, soon I’ll have nothing more to give. I will be but a memory, a passing specter of what once was. What shall I do? But then a knife flies out of the heavens and strike me straight in the chest. “Blame” is written on it. Is it my fault? Is it my fault? Is it my fault? Is it my fault? All I ask is that Happiness remains happy and for that I’d give anything. Alas, I have given almost my all but to little avail.

The claws sink deep in both you and I. We endure and move forward but our paths forked and diverged. As the bonds pull taut, these claws eat at our flesh with increasing intensity. Perhaps this suffering is for the best, that which binds our hearts together through time.

I drag my feet along and suddenly a thorn pierces my foot. “Expectations”, it screams. Each step incurs the wrath of a multitude of thorns. I want to stop and remove them but I can’t. They have sunk deep under my skin, and I am forever cursed with them. Expectations, expections. I can only lament but the pain is far from relieved. It weighs on my back like a deadweight, making only the journey forward more torturous.

I don’t complain; I can’t. I asked for this. I can’t give up now. I look around and everyone is smiling. How is it that they can smile through the pain? Perhaps I’m taking it too hard. I drop the deadweight and move on. Everything seems so much simpler; so much less painful. But then before I knew it, I tripped and slammed into the brick wall of Guilt.

It falls on me and crushes every bone in my body. I try to let out a cry but it is stifled. No one hears me. I am broken, with the knife of Blame in my side and the thorns of Expectation in my step—I am a mess.

But I can’t stop now, I asked for this. I did. The darkness swallows me. I hear a laugh. Out of the shadows the Devil appears. He mocks me. But I’m too weary to react. His produces a pitchfork and begin stabbing at my heart. I can’t move. I can’t fight back. He takes whatever is left of my soul.

I am broken, by Happiness; by Love. But who am I to complain? I don’t have it as bad as they do. It doesn’t concern anyone else. It has no significance compared to the pain that they suffer. I am not important. I am less than human. I am but a slave to the world’s whim. I don’t have it bad—at least not as bad as they do.

I have no value. I deserve no validation. I am but scum of the earth, destined to remain at the beck and call of those who I an indebted to, either by birth or by obligation. You are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. I am not special, just another soul in the universe created to piss you off. Every day I wake up, I hate myself more and more. You attempt to peer into my mind but you don’t understand what goes in in my head because I am not worthy of your comprehension.

I am selfish, narcissistic, self-pitying, arrogant, and condescending. My pain and actions are unjustified. I have no emotions and no sympathy for the world around me. I am a hypocrite—my actions are not a reflection of my beliefs or my words. I am a Pharisee, bound for hell at the moment of my birth. I am judgmental—the plank in my eye threatening to gouge my eyeballs out but yet I run around screaming at the speck in your eyes. I am blind to my own faults, and it admitting it creates a great big paradox that only serves to prove my condescending nature. I am sarcastic and satirical. The world is my stage and I openly mock those around me because I feel superior to them. But yet I am inferior; a dog.

And you hate me, and I hate me. But I am bound to life as I am bound to my roots. My beliefs are mere superstition propagated by the ignorant and readily swallowed by the stupid. I am ignorant and stupid. I grab the blade of Blame and stab myself seven times with it. I bleed. I am in pain. Lots of pain.

The bleeding will never stop. The thorns are lodged in my feet for eternity. I know. I know that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.