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Bosshole sent me an email today. It was one of those forwarded Jesus-spam emails, the kind designed to make you feel guilty for deleting. It was an optical illusion of Jesus hidden in a sunset – kind of cool, actually.

Me: You’re emailing Jesus now?

Bosshole: I just wanted you to know what he looks like so you’ll know him if you see him


I deleted it anyway.

I’ve had three very difficult conversations in the last few days – with a fourth coming up tomorrow. One was with an Internet friend, one was with Leslie, one was with my boss. They were on different topics, but each of them sliced me up. Tomorrow’s will be the most difficult because I’m going to have to take those three conversations and boil it down to one concept.

I don’t have any faith anymore – in anything. I used to believe in … something. As much as I talk, I could never articulate it very well, but I always knew that I would land on my feet and that things would work out. Maybe it was faith in myself. When I saw a spectacular sunset – or even more likely, when the sky broke open in a thunderstorm – I always knew there was more to life than just … this. I felt comforted. Not anymore.

I used to pray. I was never very good at it or very consistent, but I did it because it made me feel better. These days praying just makes me feel even emptier, so I stopped. Because, really, what can I pray for? Peace of mind? Clarity? Strength? It’s pointless. If there is a God, my guess is he has better things to worry about than my little corner of the world. I’m beginning to think that whole idea of God is just a giant delusion that we use to trick ourselves into behaving certain ways, or to make us feel superior to others who don’t act the way we think they should.

Bosshole, despite being Bosshole, actually knows me fairly well and I wondered if somehow she knew that email would get to me, aside from just pissing me off which she does to entertain herself. For months now I’ve been faking my way through life on every imaginable level and I thought I was doing a decent job of it. Hell, I even thought if I faked it long enough, I would no longer be faking but that I’d actually have it together again. It’s worked before.

When I look back at my life, I see some pretty amazing stuff. Looking forward, all I see is an empty landscape. Which kind of sounds like depression, but I don’t think I am depressed (although I am probably on that road). It isn’t that I lack the will or the energy to claw my out of this. It isn’t that I don’t have the desire. I have all that in abundance. But without faith, without that knowledge that there is something out there that makes this bullshit worthwhile, without the ability to connect with people on a deeper level (have you seen this blog lately?) – without those things, what’s the point of getting out of this rut? Without faith – in something, anything – it’s all a rut.

I don’t know where it went.

I don’t know when I lost it.

I have no idea how to get it back.

Next time I’ll be braver
I’ll be my own savior
when the thunder calls to me
Next time I’ll be braver
I’ll be my own savior
standing on my own two feet
~Turning Tables – Adele