Dear God...

Dear God, Yahweh, Allah, Buddha or whoever is up there looking down on us,

I have lived my life as best I can. I have always been respectful of others and accepted even those that hated me. I have never stolen, lied, or intentionally hurt another human being. I have abided by every social law. I have given to those less fortunate whenever I could, both monetarily and spiritually. I have loved unconditionally, and I have never doubted your plan-- not even as a child, when my father did those horrible things to me. I just closed my eyes and thought of you. I thought that if I could survive it, I would be rewarded.

Yet I am being punished. I am alone. I have no living family. The friends I have acquired throughout my life have all shown themselves to be frauds. However, I always had my husband. He was the sparkle in my life—my shining star in the dark sky. We loved each other more than I can express in this letter. But you took him away from me. Without warning or cause you took him from me.

Why? Why, when I loved him so much? I have tried to find a reason why this might be, but I cannot.

Until now I have never questioned you or your divine plan, but now I do. I find myself wondering if you are the loving God the world claims, or even if you exist at all. After all, if you did exist and love us so, why do you hurt us? I loved my husband more than anything on this earth, yet I would have never dreamt of hurting him the way you have hurt me. I would have never done anything to make him sit at home, alone, crying. But you did that to me.

I find that the tears will not stop coming. When I am home alone they come. When I am at the store they come. When I am riding the bus they come. I can't stop them. And every time they come I think of him. I think of how he would have wrapped his arm around me and comforted me or how he would have rubbed my cheek to soothe me. But he doesn't and he never will. Not ever again.

A part of me wonders if you know the pain you have caused me. Because if you did and you truly loved me, then you would not have done this horrible thing. You would have let us have children and grow old together. Or, at the very least you would have let us die together. Like Baucis and Philemon, from the Ovid story. The couple who, when given a wish by Zeus himself, wished not for money or power, but that they would die at the same moment so that neither would have to live a day without the other. At the very least, you could have given us that.

But yet I sit here drowning in the pain that you have given me. Not love or compassion, but agony. And I ask again, why? If I had an answer, maybe that would help me. But I know I'll never get one. Your children spend hours praying, but you never answer.

So her I sit in my home, listening to the echoes of my fingers on the keyboard. That's all that's here now—echoes. Shadows and glimpses of what could have been; what should have been.

Now I have found a new companion—the pills. These round little things that make me forget about him and you. They make me forget I have ever lost something, or that I ever had something worth losing. But they hurt me too. When I don't take them my body shakes. I don't know if it's because my body needs them now, or because my heart needs them now. Either way, they are all that I have; two hundred and fifty milligrams of comfort every day. Was this the way it was supposed to be? Were the pills supposed to be my true love? Were the pills all that I deserved?

Maybe so. Maybe you tried to warn me when I was a child. Maybe you tried to tell me I wasn't worthy. And I just didn't listen. Instead I warped your divine plan by marrying one of your good children. Maybe that's why you took him; you took him back. At least that's all I can come up with.

And then, there's the knife as well. I bought it yesterday at the supermarket after I stopped crying. It's nothing fancy, but just enough to do the job. I've already started a little. It's not as hard to do as I thought it would be.

Like I said, you never answer us when we pray to you. So now I'm going to talk to you face to face and finally get some answers, even if that means damnation. It's worth it.

So I'll see you soon, and maybe even my husband too. I want to know, do you really love me? Do you even know who I am? Get your answers ready.