Posts tagged religion
Posts tagged religion
There’s something about writing that doesn’t feel honest anymore. I sit in front of a screen, fingers typing away on a keyboard, writing an infinite number of words and yet… they’re all meaningless. Maybe writing isn’t as pure as I used to think it was. With all this scrutiny, the fear of sounding vulnerable just turns these words into shallow holes devoid of any significance. I remember once listening to a song just to hear the lyrics, just to feel the tight grasp of the verses suffocating my soul with longing and relatablity. How simple words could capture an emotion so vividly, leaving me a sobbing mess of sentiment. In and out of the context of language came the taste of love and lust, the very essence of passion, all inscribed like scripture. Faith had a definition engraved in bereaving hearts and lifeless souls that found refuge in romanticized jargon and home amidst the chorus of colloquy. Our words have become so far removed from deity that we’ve grown accustomed to calling them politics, so formulated and barren, they could have no evocative expression but to assume the form of dogma.
I treat creed like a drug, practicing sobriety and kneeling to religion like a failure in rehab. Every year I’m reminded of my addiction to faith, the way hunger creeps on me like habit or the cotton-mouth dryness of thirst. Somehow the meaning of Ramadan is lost on me. Thirty days of obvious conviction eluded by eleven months of oblivious principle. I’ve spent days of repentance on nights bursting with sin, yet the price of indignation doesn’t seem high enough. Religion weighs heavy on my soul but I’m tipsy on the words of a saint and acting on a sinner’s budget. How faithless this heart of mine can be amidst the yearning for salvation. God have mercy on my soul, Lord knows I haven’t.
The Innocents by Francesca Segal
This quote seems most appropriate for the start of the holy month.
Sometimes I convince myself that I’m in need of religion. Other times sex can do the trick. Then there are moments like these, moments when I feel absolutely insatiable. And although they are fleeting, these transitory occurrences seem to happen more often than not. I’m in a constant search for fulfillment, invariably disappointed by my lack of sustenance. I’m a sinner craving for the appetite of a saint yet loitering amidst the hunger of infidelity. I can’t recall the last time I felt whole, but merely the essence of an emotion I’ve since longed for. This yearning, a burning desire relishing inside me, chars the very edges of my heart. Life has never felt more disastrous, love has never seemed so bare and faith has since lost reprieve.
My heart feels empty, lost in this faithless world, trying to find religion. How did I lose so much of myself? I’m constantly battling thoughts of salvation, begging for mercy in the palms of foreign hands. I once found conviction in your arms, now you’ve since betrayed me. What is there to believe in anymore? Faith is nothing but treason on the heart, malice in its deception of such gullible benevolence. And I have been just as foolish, mindfully tactful in a pursuit for creed but blind to its sedition. To think, all this time I’d convinced myself we were making love.
I’m going to make myself excruciatingly vulnerable right now and tell you that I’m scared. I have the worst innate fear consuming me and I’m afraid that I’ll be haunted with this notion for the rest of my life.
I haven’t slept in days. I’ve spent my nights tossing and turning, fighting back tears and attempting to console myself. Struggling with the urge to ask the people who once promised they’d be there… to actually be there.
I try to act strong even though deep down I know just how frail I really am. It’s one of my worst attributes, despite trying to convince myself otherwise. Maybe it’s the reason why I didn’t go through with it this last time. Maybe it’s why I opted for one more week of being whole, competent. Seven days of insomnia and emotional agony aside.
Some say this is just a test. The thing is, I’ve been tested all my life and then some. What this really feels like is punishment, a life-long sentence for not being religious enough, not praying enough, not believing enough. I hate to say this, but I’m left feeling pretty faithless.
It’s nearly 3 a.m. and the furthest thing from my mind seems to be sleep. I find my fingers gripping at my bed sheets, soaked pillows and my mind in the last place I want it to be. Thoughts of then and now. Thoughts of tomorrow. The things I’ve lost before I’ve ever had the chance of having them.
…And now I’m with the one person who’s ever thought of me as enough, the one person that’s never made me feel inadequate. And one day this could be the one inadequacy he sees, the thing that makes me less than perfect, less than enough. And what then? What if I lose him and this thing I’ve lost before I’ve even had it and everything I’ve ever wanted all at once?
I don’t know what the right thing for me is. I’m afraid I’ll look back on this moment and wish I’d chosen the other route. I’ll wish I would’ve asked my mom. I’ll wish I would’ve prayed more. I’ll wish I would’ve had a little faith in something. I just don’t know how to turn to God and ask Him if I’ll be okay, if I’m just worrying for nothing.
I’m tired of having questions. I want an answer.
I lost my way some time ago. Some days I wish I could pin point exactly when so that maybe I could figure out what it was that I did so wrong. Lately, I’m just hoping I can find my way again. I listen to him preach sometimes. Sit there in a solemn corner away from judging eyes and callous hearts, just listening. His voice feels like heaven, his words feel like home. With every scripture follows the bereaving cries of my mourning heart, ridden with guilt and sin. Faith has often thwarted my belief, so I can’t say I have much left to believe in. But the echo in his voice, the sound of God whispering in my ear, has my soul begging for contrition. I can feel the tingling sensation of conviction run down my spine, taste the fading allure of creed. Maybe I’m not so lost after all.
These days, I find myself doing more reading than writing. Putting faith into words written at the hands of others, seeking comfort and familiarity. I wish I could say I were reading scriptures and putting my belief in religion, but creed has lost its conviction with me. I’d rather find solace in the lexis of Socrates or knowledge in the vows of Nietzsche. Let the language of philosophy take over me, feeding my intellect and starving the ill-natured manners of humanity. As camaraderie’s fade to the quintessential lover and novel relationships form to the mold of higher expectation, I can’t help but miss the pungent taste of ignorance, a blinding elixir poised by formality. The contentment of bliss can only last so long.
I woke up drowning in my own discontent. The overwhelming bare of emptiness and nostalgia tickling the arch of my neck, sending a paralyzing sensation of confound disarray up and down my spine. Sounds of my youth echoed in the background of memories not easily forgotten. These shoulders carry too heavy of a burden, sinking the soles of my feet down on to blemished knees. I feel inconsolable, having found myself trapped in the abysmal space of an empty feeling left behind with this sense of longing. I sit idly by, thoughts focused on anger and a heart rapt in pain. This terrible yearning for faith tussles me to the ground in profound pursuit, beating salvation back into me. I’ve got a mind filled with sin and a heart not ready to repent.
I’m standing in uniform, that is to say hair, skin, bosom covered. Hands clasp against my chest feeling the beat of a savaged heart. My body is clean but that seems to be more than I can say for my impious soul. I’m unfocused. My mind is lost in delirium, running through a course of irreverent thought. I’m reciting words I’ve yet to look up the meaning to, chanting phrases of devote intent yet I lack the intended devotion. Tears stream the canvas of my face in helpless misery. I’m begging for salvation with a faithless heart. I’m on empty, fueled by sin and retribution but I’m on bended knees pleading for some kind of conviction. I can’t remember the last time my prayers were answered.