Home Truths: Fighting the Fear of the Inevitable (Trigger Warning: Journaling Raw Thoughts And Emotions)
These are some raw truths I’ve come to accept, as I wrestle with the silence—both from God and from the world around me.
No matter what happens tonight, there’ll be no bargains, no deals, no divine intervention. God’s silence isn’t something I can change. I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried. But, like everyone I’ve tried to love in my life, it feels like God left me on read and moved on to someone else.
And honestly, Lord, I get it. I wouldn’t want to talk to someone like me either.
Where Are You, God?
It seems like only the devil and his demons ever cared, though only for their own amusement. And now even they’ve lost interest. How much of a lost cause do you have to be for both God and the devil to stop showing up? Or maybe the devil’s just patient because he knows I’m already his. Why waste effort when it’s already a done deal?
I’m empty. I don’t feel love for anyone or anything. I don’t feel loved, appreciated, or connected to the world. Happiness? It’s a foreign concept, too hard to chase. Why bother?
So, I’ll stick with what’s real: anger. Anger is easy. Anger makes sense.
Yep, anger, emptiness, hopelessness and a devote acceptance that I will end my life by my hand on my own terms rather than suffer day after day and year after year of falseness and being let down.
The Exhaustion Of Giving
Fuck the world. Fuck everyone who always wants, wants, wants while I’m left alone every night. No one gives a fuck. So why should I?
Even my own family—they care, sure, but they don’t really know how to make me feel like I matter. I’ve been hurt so many times that I don’t trust any cunt. I tell myself I’m not co-dependent, but deep down, I just want to feel what others talk about: love, happiness, loyalty, trust. The kind of connection where someone sees you for who you are and doesn’t run away.
Instead, I’m stuck behind this wall I’ve built. I’ve stopped wallowing in self-pity, though. Now I just don’t care. About anything.
God, Are You Listening?
I’ve prayed. I’ve begged. I’ve asked for some sign that God is real, that He sees me, hears me, and cares about me. But all I get is silence. In jail, I thought I felt something—a spark of belief, a shred of hope. But that feeling didn’t last. It never does.
If God is real, why does He ignore me? I’ve tried to read scripture. I’ve tried to open my heart. I’ve studied the arguments, the evidence, the theology. I wanted to believe. I wanted to feel loved. But all I’ve found is silence.
Now I understand when Alex O Connor (Cosmicskeptic) says “I will win on this mountain, or die on this fence”
Or when he say’s “I am a hopeful agnostic” essentially because he wants the idea of God to be real, yet has found nothing solid for him to say, yes he is.
When I first heard this, it hit hard, but never on the level it’s hitting me now.
I felt like I knew God, felt like he saw me, listened, loved me.
I see evidence of his Greatness and existence everywhere. Am I delusional? Is this just nothing more than a severe case of confirmation bias, or am I legit just so far gone that God has turned his eyes away from me?
I’m not asking for a miracle. Just… something. Anything. Even reprimand me if I’ve done wrong. But let me know You’re there.
I think of Abraham, who was asked to sacrifice his son as an act of faith. You stopped him at the last moment and gave him a kingdom. But what about me, Lord? You took my daughter nearly 13 years ago, and all I’ve had since is pain and suffering. If I’ve found favour in Your sight, as Abraham did, then show me something. Anything.
The Weight Of Loss
When my daughter died nearly 13 years ago, something inside me broke. I didn’t even cry at her funeral. It’s like the pain was too much to process, although I have also said it’s because I wasn’t there for me I needed to be strong, so my mind shut it off. Since then, I’ve been immune to loss. People die, people leave, and I just… carry on. Numb.
Even with my other kids, I feel disconnected. I love them in theory, but it’s like the part of me that feels love is broken. My daughter Kiara adores me. She thinks I’m amazing, even when I don’t know what I’m doing. I try so hard to be a good father to her, but deep down, I’m terrified I’ll mess it up. What if I ruin her view of me? What if I can’t keep this relationship safe?
Sometimes I think dying now would be easier for everyone. Kiara would remember me as the man who tried his best, not the broken shell I’m scared I’ll become.
Which leads me to the conclusion, my death will be like a band-aid thing. Die now, while she is young and adores me and she is looked after and supported instead of risking her view of me ever-changing
so in fact, my suicide is damage control rather than an act of desperation or illogically jumping to conclusions. essentially a self-administered completely unsanctioned and private voluntary euthanasia
A Plea For Understanding
This isn’t a cry for help. It’s not an act of desperation. It’s just the truth of how I feel. I’m journaling, getting it all out, trying to make sense of the chaos in my head. But nothing seems to change.
I want to believe that things can get better. I want to feel like there’s a purpose to all this pain. But right now, all I’m left with are questions. Questions without answers.
God, if You’re there, show me something. Anything. And yet, all I can do is keep asking: show me something. Anything.
