Why?

I sit there, alone in my chamber of stone and dairy board. Warm, soothing water washes over me, but it doesn't make me feel any more at peace. I begin to cry, silent sobs as I demand to know the truth.

God, why did you make me like this?

Why do you make me feel pain for others?

Why must I befriend those that have had such a worse life than mine?

Why do empathize, sympathize; why do I fucking care?

And that nagging, hateful word is spitting in my mind like a feral cat.

Why why why why why why?

Is it that I was made this way for a specific reason? Was it that the reason I feel this way is for something important? Is there a reason you give me all this pain to feel?

I press the heel of my hand to my forehead as if I can shove the answers in, screaming in my head to the point it begins to pound with fury.

Why must I feel remorse and pain for people I do not know, never met face-to-face? Its because of them.

Why did you do those things to them?

They didn't deserve it! They are beautiful people who helped me through tough times. My life would not be the same with out them. It wouldn't be as livable. Yet, they have made me cry the hardest. Isn't it sad that the people I care for the most have made me cry the hardest?

I collapse to the cement floor, sobs coming harder and ragged, water collapsing on me, warm and soft, yet leaving me cold and unyielding on the inside. It wants to push me down, drown me. I cannot understand this. I never will.

These people—beautiful people—have undergone so much suffering to the point they no longer believe in You. I want them to believe in You. I want them to feel the way I feel, knowing I have You. But they don't. Because they think You have betrayed them. I know You haven't, but why did You let it happen?

Why?

I just can't understand. Some of them hate You and I understand why. I just wish they didn't. I wish you would have given them hope in their darkest hours to not make them hate You so much, to make them un-believe in You. Because I am the bad guy, the brain-washed Bible-thumper who wants to condemn everyone to Hell for being themselves.

But I'm not that kind of person. I'm too soft, too caring...

I fold my shaking hands, close my eyes, and rock back and forth slightly. My naked back smacks against the wall lightly as I pray.

“God, please...please, just help them find happiness and peace. That's all I want. Happiness and peace...”

Happiness and peace, happiness and peace...

I chant this almost ten times like some priestess. That's all I want for them, I beg. That's all I want them to come to in their lives.

As long as they hurt, I hurt. They don't need to find happiness and peace so that I can. No, I already have that. Its for them, their own reasons. Please, just give it to them!

Why do You make me care and cry and suffer for these people? Why did You make them come into my life? Why did You let those things happen to them? Why do you make me love them?

I'm still waiting on an answer.