supreme being
if you were a religion, i would have loved you as blindly as dogmatists do.
Am I a worthy worshipper now?
Do you accept me now?
I have kissed your feet and whispered my prayers to your name. I am quite sure any other heaven would refuse to have me pass through their gates at this point.
After all, who would want a girl grasping desperately on deification?
My faith pours over, and it drowns the barriers between logic and belief. My mind is asleep in the presence of you.
To others, I am a cryptic scripture, an anomaly devoid of divine revelation; but you have me all figured out, as if you were my creator.
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I would shame all the nonbelievers, offer all that I am, have, and more.
I would give all of me and still know that it wouldn’t suffice.
I would look at you, up at you, and praise your name as if we weren’t both just powerless people.
You could throw me to the purgatory to atone for my blasphemy and I would thank you for it, for ever since I believed in you, I haven’t seen anything else sensibly.
I loved you like a little kid who had been cradled tightly in religion, not being given anything else to believe on, not given a chance at subjectivity. I will loathe you like an angsty teen who looks back at religious trauma, who would be ostracized for never wanting to believe again because she now lacks the capability to put faith into anything else once again.
I would have stayed, would have held on despite the love and the lack thereof that I thought I was unworthy of. I would have kneeled and bowed to your name, staying down even until my knees were marked by rough cement. I would have done all that could be done just to stay here — reside beneath all the lies, lying on the hard and cold floor, washing my hands with murky water to clean off the grimy feeling you would leave on my surface with just a subtle touch of your hand to mine — just to be with or even just by you.
I would have done quite literally and figuratively everything.
If only I had not awoken to the truth too late — that you are nothing to be compared to a god. You are just less of a human and not more.
You were never a supreme being, I was just too blinded to place you on a pedestal; While you reveled in the sun’s bright light, I constantly lived under the shadow of your overgrown ego, mistaking it for your inexistent glory, trusting that you always had my best interests at heart. All this time, I had believed that you did everything out of love, that you covered the warmth of the sun to prevent me from being burned, but I was only hidden, like a shameful birthmark you wished to hide from the world.
Like a desperate worshipper turned to a nonbeliever, I sometimes would ask why, yet know deep inside, that I would never receive an answer from an empty heaven.
