My Talk With God

I decided to sit down with him so we could have a, sort of, father – son
conversation. I had a talk with him: he who gave light to all creation. The one who gives all another chance. The one listening to prayers.

“I have been praying, father,” I brought my mug close to my mouth and whiffed the fancy fragrance, which awoke me, slightly. The fire popped and crackled delightfully in its bed above the bricks. My lips tested the temperature of the mug, but I placed it back upon the saucer after tilting it too far for comfort.

I laid back in my comfort, red and orange rattling in my eyes. “So, don’t tell me I haven’t.” I croaked a little, letting my throat reach equilibrium. The fire swayed.

“It’s always been the same. Me… asking questions, and you, hearing them, rhetorically.” I lifted my mug again and tapped its conformation with my tongue, which quickly ran to hide. I returned the cup.

“So, it doesn’t matter this time… the type of question.” I yawned a bit, but still felt quite alert.

“Why?… Such an ambitious question. ‘Why what?’ you ask? Well, obviously the word ‘why’ refers distinctly to the combination of all things that cause my unhappiness. Thus, the subject of this solo situation I currently represent. You may think of me as selfish at this moment, and I do say that I hope so. You see, I have had my share of unselfishness with life and prayer. I’ve always asked for your hand to heal the hemispheres of human homes. What a dumb and childish wish! Every soul that prays must have asked this at some time in their career. No… the combined wishes of the world, your children, have not been enough for you. Why?… Rhetorical… I know why. You want us to live through suffering and hardship, but as to why on that I can not imagine, father.

“So, I became selfish in my praying… in reality I am more unselfish than before, but prayer represents an alternate story.” I picked my cup up and sipped it troublelessly. I held it in my lap.

“So… now I will change my heart for you, God. A prayer… a penultimate evil… understand? The most devilish prayer of a most devout follower! Ah HAHA!” I grimaced with black teeth to show. “I am excited and ecstatic… I will pour my soul out onto you. I will pour out my heart… or what’s left of it. You see? This is the point of prayer! This is the point of no return! I have been wanting this day, Lord! It is because my fear of you is gone! You certainly wouldn’t think I’d fear you if I have never seen your power? Your Power?! It couldn’t even save that woman a few blocks down. You know… her baby died at birth and the shock killed her as well. I heard from many that she was quite an angel… But that grumpy old man that abides by the several deadly sins is over a century old! Blasphemous! HAH! Maybe it is the most worthy that are given the quickest deaths in this hellishness! I see it now! How unfortunate for me! For in cause of my actions; henceforth, I will be forever alive… Though, I am still going to inform you, even if you know what I will say.”

I took a larger gulp of my elixir. “Ridiculous! You made us live on this hell to laugh at our dismay! No other father would kill his son for our sins and still let us roam free, wallowing in our sea of hatred. Look at me!” I tossed the remains of my tonic in the flames that over took the contraption that created it. It lashed out at me, but I secured myself.

“Tell us now if you are done with us. Or don’t tell us just delete your burden! OR heal it all! To do nothing is to fuel the fires of hell. Or has our creation weakened you, so? You rest on the seventh day and still stand resting on this fifth of thousand years! But the devil is free in all hearts… yet the greatest lack of him is held in the hearts with the most sorrow! Yes, many wear the most frülich Geschicte, but it’s foolish to believe that is not a mask. I believe that every soul is unhappy in some way. Why? Simply because I don’t want to be lonely in retrospect with this as well… selfishness…”

I switched the crossing of my legs, rested my elbow on the chair’s arm, and let my head fall smoothly on top of my hand. "I’ll begin at the beginning… you might find my unhappiness occurs only in heart. There my pain and the times of love are both the same and insane.

“I was in elementary school, and before you start judging me I will ask for a disregarding analysis of my age. No prejudices or bias. But as I was saying, I was in about the fifth grade. Of course, I liked some girl; though I can only recall how she appeared now at my current age, not how she seemed ten years ago. I liked her and had dreams about her often at ten years. And do not think them as sexual, for I was young and ill-acquainted with such topics. I liked her… that was all. I was somewhat of a player… every year since first grade I had a different girl and it all stopped with this one. I know… you can’t really call such youthful infatuations relevant to love… or can you?

“So I asked her out, being up-front and aggressive as I often was. She declined and it was not until the second occasion had I asked the most ambitious question invented: Warum? Why? She was a nice young girl and answered me quickly. ‘You are really mean and cuss too much,’ she explained. I was shocked and went to sleep with a heavy heart and mind.” I shifted my weight. My comfort reclined.

“’Never let women change you,’ they say… Well seeing how she was not yet a woman I felt no harm in converting the evilness she saw: the aura of my presence. It only took a year, though. I cleansed myself of anger and curse words with the hope of a converted retaliation from her lips. I returned, in front of her, with my mind cleared and conscience present. I presented the same question and yet was still declined! There must have been some other subtle difference in our hearts. Was I not her prince? Was my armor so tattered that no princess would dare confront me? I had changed myself for her, but for not.

“The same ambition bequeathed from my lips and a new hunt began… she pulled the text book answer from the very darkness in her soul, ‘I just don’t like you in that way,’ she said. What does that mean?! What does that mean?! … It means nothing! There was a part of me either brain or brawn that was sehr schlekt in the eyes of this person! …But she was nice and I respected her. She transformed me into a Good Samaritan and seemed somewhat saddened with her answer.”

I brought my finger tips together and laid my head back, elbows rested on the arms of the char. "Not a big deal? Well, surely it is not the denying fault of my question here that woes me! It is my favored change! But now I will skip ahead to seventh and eighth grade. I had to heal after that previous début. I was quite recluse the next two years that I hardly remember much except never quite smiling. Well, my mask had formed and smiled for me. Don’t give me your sympathy! It’s far too late for that… and the consequences of those years made me passive and quiet.

“High school… It’s supposed to be one’s greatest years… one’s favored tears that lay beside birth and death. Some say college is better… the adult life, but I recoil and assume they forget that in high school, one only has fun… unless they forget about fun and they try to grow up too fast, with maternity and maturity and paternity and three shifts a day. Where your every essentiality is supplied for you in which you take, obviously and easily, for granted. I, however, had already matured in my mentality my sixth year in school, so my mind was ready for everything high school had in store. I was very into someone who, at the time, seemed equal as into me. It was the pinnacle of my happiness so far. Such beauty and a voice of doves… at least I assume so, I haven’t seen her in five years.”

The fire gleamed and I shut my eyes from its brightness. “Then in the depths of my heart I felt a slight discretion… a new perception in that part. She came to me one morning with a smile and the sorrow in her eyes that wouldn’t fail. She greeted me and I her with a smile and a hug all the while I knew something felt false. So, I asked. She responded like a darkened cloud… electric and pressured in the randomness of its aim. My heart was struck as she said, ’I’m moving.’”

Irony smiled.

“Haha… lucky me. I had an angel in my arms for one last second. Then I had practice and she left shortly. What mockery! Banished … my heart… across half of the country! That is no lie! That is your laughter in my head! The grimace that slowly deadens me! But it is here that I don’t remember what I felt. Was the loss of her that unbearable that my mind forgot as well as my heart? Or were the feelings I had falsely amplified? I do not recall. I’ve only stated this occurrence to further enhance the explanation of my current… solace.

“Then came my second year in a higher school. I had gathered many more friends, and my company was highly appreciated. I had, I assume, gotten over my loss and found my calling in my school’s music and marching. The summer before that sophomore year, I noticed another girl with an exquisite prettiness. It would be naïve of me to say she represented the entire faction of school-girl… elegance, so do understand I probably had the same thought as I had of her countenance with a fair number of other girls who obviously may have looked anti-identical, so I just smiled at her in a classy manner and continued to actual business with my colleagues. I’d always see her at practice, for she carried a flag. It was… very noticeable.

“Soon, school started, I was taking a language… you can easily come to terms with what… and I found that this same person had a place on the opposite side of the room. I thought not too much about it. Until-” I relinquished my seating and strolled over to the window, its curtains drawn. The moon sent its only satisfaction through the window onto me: the focus of a white and bright laser from beyond the darkened sky.

“Until I looked at the gorgeousness of the moon and felt the very same solace as when I gazed upon her. AH! It ensnared me like the moon ensnares the feelings of the ocean! So I sought her strongly. Too strongly I’ll say… If anyone that knows not what love is and would seem to see it or to feel it firstly, this may be similar to what I felt. It was the first time such a feeling had ever encroached upon my heart, and thus I thought I had fallen in love with her. Even now as I have strayed from the path that she follows, I still concur… I loved her. One can tell me I did not, but what do their words matter? Are they me? No! Have they felt what I felt at the same time and arrangement? Possibly, but still…love is something that none understand, regardless if they understand it.”

I brought the chair over towards the moon and sat in it still staring, the fire at my back. "So then I will now confess to my mistake. I wrote her a note and sent it to her while our membership traveled across to the Atlantic’s border: a colder place, but a worthy Thanksgiving. That letter held, within it, a most exaggerated expansion of my feelings. They were new feelings… I had not the strength to withhold them… and that, one can tell, is quite unfortunate. I wrote love in that letter, poetry included. It was a wretched piece of work. It was crude and the start of my endeavors, though, it embodied my heart’s entirety. But we hadn’t known each other. I had only known the incredible, yet unbearable, glory and chill that swam down my spine, expressed on account of her proximity to me. Such a fool, I was! Why could I not control those feelings? I flattered her far too largely… I praised her for a goddess in which now I clearly see as such a horrible thing. Not at all to her liking.

“I’d write her many more times, fortunately with control and sincerity. I’d follow her membership by request from some of my and her colleagues. I began to learn about her: primarily her amazing heart for others and her amazing heart of dance. All of which were added to the rapture of her countenance: the dance in the moonlight. An angel! I still believe she represents one such being, thus, the reason for me never to see her again or recognize her hand if it were at the height of my brow. If I were to find her forthwith, my heart may surely rekindle; ergo, a splendid growth in my own unhappiness.”

“My… unhappiness. Be it what it may, but why do I seek to tell myself that it is not my fault? Why must I think that the state of my solace is solely because of the subject it is of?” I looked at the moon, steadily, not blinking. “Peculiar… the similarity.” I retreated my eyes and when they returned, it was not the moon I saw, but the very part in my heart that burned. She waved at me. “What a lie! Stop dreaming!” Fiercely, I slapped myself in the face. “I’ve conquered my past already! WAKE UP!” I punched myself, but my heart wouldn’t stop. “Get out of my head! Oh no, what have I done! The coming sight of her it grows within the back of my brain. Not this pain, again… You see, God!” My eyes had thought it was befitting to mimic a faucet in need of repair. “Do you see? Her eyes… a spot of woe… they tear my insides like a rotten apple! I can’t handle such a weight on my frailness much longer.” I coughed and had to allow my head to fall with the weight of my heart. "It’s not her fault! It’s not my fault! I didn’t ask for these feelings! I don’t want them! Where… where’s my salvation? Where can I repent? If I’ve angered you I am sorrowful, God.

“But I will let my feelings out! I have not ever disbelieved you, God. So what devourers me? The girl? Myself? You? Devil? What can I do.” I paused lonely in my comfort. “As I thought… rhetorical… HAHA! All questions reflected onto me.” I fell out of my chair and grasped my head to stop it from shaking. Then I started pacing and embracing my chest. I glanced at the mug. It’s eyes shot my heart. “No, don’t make me play your hand! I won’t be damned!” I turned and lifted the mug. “But… if I play your hand and then am damned… I surely won’t be seeing her.” Her picture flashed in my eyes and the crash of the mug on the ground exposed its true identity: its jaggedness. I picked up the handle with its destructiveness exposed. I brought one of the points to my chest. “Aufwiedersehen!” I pressed it on my self and the mug failed quickly before my bone. “Curses! My conscience, so strong to cause such an easy differential, prevents my wanting! But… maybe it was you who protected my haunting.” I sat up and then started thinking. “If I go to hell I am sure her countenance would still be my torture. So, now I guess it is time to say thank you.” A red rain splattered the base of the mug. “Is this my blood?”

I swam backward and sat sprawled against my comfort. The moon lit upon me and I realized what had just occurred. “My… my apologies. No… Nevermind. I should not be sorry. So let me continue with this… this recollection of my past.”

I got up and traveled to my bathroom and saw my body had been swimming in the Red Sea. I did not shower, as to not declare defeat. I dried myself and walked into my kitchen, grabbing an open bottle of Chateau. I retreated back to my comfort and sat down, finger tips meeting. "The next year she moved as well, but during the time I had known her I did become her friend and we talked on occasion. My feelings had trouble coping with the realization of wanting such an improbability. I understood that I could not forget her until some new angelic body and soul would appear before me.

“As I walked down the line of the girls of which I worked for, at this time I was leading a brigade that worked for the tarp from which they danced, I gave all of them a good luck and a five and went down the line. I had not intended on finding her in my arms. She came from behind the shadows and we exchanged a solace smile…” My arms wrapped around me. I was caught in a dream. “I wonder… if there has ever been a hug that brings with it such warmth. Sometimes I’d feel it at any random interval. From the years it has been, I am surprised that,” I threw my arms away and squinted angrily. “I am surprised that it still has the effect after two years.”

“I wrote a novel about her, which I know she’s read some part of it. As well as I know she liked me at least at some point. I know it! I also know it’s my fault why I couldn’t tell her my feelings. I couldn’t make a move. I had no words, save a whispered woe of lackadaisicalness that would seep secretly from my lips. I let my passed occurrence have too much effect on my actions, thus to no satisfaction, I stayed steady, chasing my tail. And her eyes… they themselves were an oddity… intriguing… like a green flame.” The fire danced more quickly now at its notice of a coming defeat. I blinked at it and a slight tear fell on my chest. I winced. “Yes! A tear from her on the wound from the other… an unbearable connection!”

My eyes reddened and lips quivered. “You can guess on this next event! Yes, God! My second angel, no, this women moved as well! Gone! The pit of hell had opened and I fell in the soup of my own wounds… I wanted her more than before. I told myself I didn’t know or love her. I told myself it was fake. I said that… so then, I just waited for that hug again, as planned. I would see her before she left again, as planned. I would hold her for the last and longest time, as planned. Then I’d kiss her and then I’d let her go because I felt I wasn’t ready to give myself away for love anymore.”

The monster began to gnaw at my heart. “No… Not again, Lord! You understand don’t you? Don’t you?! I didn’t get that chance… I didn’t get my hug! Just stabbed myself with a lance without a fight! I just gave up! I killed it… my heart!” which had finally placed me over the edge. I ran over to the window and threw it ajar. “Ah!” I screamed. “God why am I so stupid! Why do I do these things?” I bobbled my head, denying my own question. “First I… asked, thinking I would get exactly what I wanted because at age ten that was the norm. Failure changed me, so I tried to let myself fall for someone gradually on the next occurrence. Gone… Then I chose an aggressive love. Aggressiveness is a scary thing, no wonder why she left. But why, when the chance presented itself so enormously, did I have to choose nothing. That is why I think the finale decomposed.”

My breathing awkwardly sped as my stomach churned. I felt my heart climb out of my mouth and tried to swallow it but it lingered like a chip. I slammed my fists onto the window sill. “Do you see why I am here, God? I need help! I need love! I am five from half a century old and have yet to taste such golden lips of someone dear, I haven’t rolled my fingers through their hair … still a virgin, though for that I do not care. It’s been… a couple years since I’ve been held by someone… held someone. Maybe… that’s what I want. I need…”

I strolled over to the bottle by the chair and lessened its mass. “Why am I still speaking?” A star twinkled across the sky. Their countenance flashed deeply in my eyes. “Not again… let me forget. Is this hell? Is this hell!?” Their strengths flashed across my mind. “Oh, God!” My wound began to persuade my bleeding. “Ah! Why so much blood from such a small wound?” My body felt heavy so I met the floor. I swallowed another serving to put pressure on my heart. It didn’t work, so I swallowed more. My hand was heavy, so I let it fall where it may. My sight was blurred… my limbs weak. My eyes ran empty as I laid at equilibrium, blinking in my exhaustion. "Ok. Their memory kills me. The harshness not called by their embodiment. They must not go. I must forget, though I don’t wish to. But I must! And… how? Tell me how and for goodness sake… it’s… it’s not… rhetorical anymore. Not at all… rhetorical.

“But what is that to you? Why do I keep asking? Ah! At least my pain is leaving. Time could be deceiving. It often leaves and comes and goes as they did. Yes, the pain. And I know what I should do. But knowing what does not tell one how they must live. And knowing how does not explain why.” My body hovered to sit by my comfort. I lifted up my head, letting it rest on the side of the chair. “I think I know your text book answer. Do you know? ….Rhetorical,” and God, heard my side of the story. He heard my heart and I poured out my soul. So, he let me rest, for now, and I know that when I wake, I’d have forgotten them, or remembered them evermore.

The empty bottle rolled on the floor; my carpet red and stained.

My Talk With God

S Burns

O'Fallon, United States

  • Artist

Artist's Description

I had been wanting to write something with this title for a while. It’s about …well… me. I basically am just telling God my life’s unhappiness. I’m asking him what i’ve done wrong and why I feel how I feel. I ask him how I can become happy… I ask him how I can forget, but I only believe he hears rhetorical questions. This is why my talk with God is only me talking.

I listened to Moonlight Sonata when I wrote it…

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