Once More. With Feeling.

And she beckoned me to follow

Patter. Patter. Sounds resonating from somewhere in the depths of being. Patter. Patter.

The old man: I have always expected to become devout. All my family died very devout. But somehow it does not come. Perhaps I have outlived my religious feeling.

A man drifts into the sea. His body never is recovered. Sinking below. The drops of rain upon his frozen skin. Patter. Patter. Into the depths of all eternity. Patter.

Why I Am Not A Christian

Love they neighbor, unless he is different. Thou shalt not kill, unless your government or religious leader absolves you first. Do not covet what is your neighbors, unless its the slick black economy. Thou shall not worship any gods before me, unless he states that he is my voice.

Some may say it’s the hypocrisy that drove me down this road. The religious will state it was an act of being tempted by Satan. As a child, I was told by a bible class teacher that I would burn in hell for killing a mosquito. I decided my damnation would be on my own terms.

I’m not a Christian because I was raised Catholic.

Why I Am Not An Atheist

To believe in nothing is just a hard concept for me to grasp that the sheer faith of something. Morals aside, Atheists are on the same level as the righteous Christians. Rather than allowing others to continue on with their beliefs, they are headstrong to “convert” believers into nonbelievers, labeling them delusional.

I’m guilty of such arguments, but only when I’m driven to it. I am the devil’s advocate. “Prove to me there is a god,” the nonbeliever will say. “Prove to me there isn’t,” the believer snaps back. Neither have evidence to the contrary. They argue in circles. Rather than allowing each other to believe what the choose to, they have an urge to prove the other wrong.

Humans and their religions. Such pathetic swine.

But why?

In the season premiere of Dexter, he takes Harrison to a Catholic preschool for an interview. The nun asks what denomination Dexter prescribes to. He doesn’t believe in anything. When he asks Angel Batista why religion is important and to what evidence does one have to proving the existence of a higher power, he receives a confused answer. Truth is, there is no evidence in faith. If there was, it’d be called fact. Faith makes no room for reason or logic. Faith is a drug. It alleviates pain, calms the mind and brings inner peace to its user. I see no harm in it, except when faith takes the place of common sense. Praying that a higher power will spare you from a natural disaster will not cloak your house in god’s force field. Making proper preparations, on the other hand, makes more sense. Prayer can be used to ease one’s fears, sure. It just cannot take the place of rational preparation.

No matter how hard Angel attempts to explain his answer to Dexter, the outcome is the same – Faith makes no sense.


Agnosticism isn’t a religion just as Atheism isn’t a form for faith. They are anti-beliefs. I don’t believe in the god, but I also allow the possibility of one to exist. I’m not going to live my life by a set of rules that are based on archaic practices. Besides, morals and ethics do not stem from religion. They stem from common sense and social contract. People should be allowed to live as they see fit as long as they do not enforce their ideals and beliefs in others, or cause them harm.

Despite The Ugly, There Is Beauty In This World

The old shell of hate doesn’t fit right anymore. This new suit of skin fits just right. My life is been one disguise after another, jumping from role to role. We all wear masks, it just depends how long we hide behind them. Patter. Patter. Not rain. No, those are the walls of my anti-faith crumbling. No a religious waking, but an Agnostic Enlightenment. Patter. Patter.

I was once told by a friend that I became disenchanted with being disenchanted. Patter. Patter. That I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. Patter. Patter. That I blamed myself for things outside of my control. Patter. Patter. For years, I carried the blame of my cousin’s death. If only I could have done things differently, then maybe…just maybe…Patter. Patter. The shell crumbles around me. The sky is clear overhead. Patter. Patter. That sound of breath. That cool breeze? That is a new life. A new mentality. Patter. Patter. Sometimes we have to let go of ourselves, no matter how much it hurts. Patter. Patter. Because there is so much to live for. So much worth fighting for. Patter. Patter. Here it comes. Hold on. The sky opens to swallow the earth below. We are one. We are one. The sound of everything breaking. Reshaping. Creating. Ever lasting. Patter.

Patter. Patter.


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