“Do you believe in God?” Here’s a good question, apart from difficult, at least for me. Because I’m not sure about my answer.

Once, someone told me that Unamuno said “I want to believe, but I can’t”. And that really applies to me. Somewhere in my mind, I’m sure God must exist. I feel it those times when I wake up and think that life is strange, that the fact that I can feel, think, move, and wonder about metaphysic questions is amazing, until the point it’s scaring. Then I think that all is so perfect that it can’t be meaningless. But I don’t know exactly where I should look for Him… And lately I’ve come to realize I have no faith in Him, I’ve never truly believe in Him. By saying this, I don’t mean He’s just a fantasy, I defend His existence, but I don’t think He cares about us anymore, that He can intervene in our lifes… He just left us here and the world developes his own way with the laws of Physics that once were settled. And that’s all.

As a child, I had faith. Tones of faith. Not only in God, in everything, like all kids. Anyway, from an early age, I guess seven or so, I’ve wondered about existencial questions, but God weren’t between my worries. Back then I only reflected about what it means to be alive, what it means to be dead, and what it means to be myself. But as soon my adult concience started to develope, at twelve maybe, my faith in God quickly fade away, without realizing it. Simply, I got up one morning and found it has gone, leaving me without a clue about why. And I didn’t like that feeling. I tried desperately to have it back and, during a year, I produce a kind of faith that didn’t came from God, but from myself. And that faith is even worse than not believing, because it doesn’t warm, it burns and uses up. And, when you discovers the truth nature of that faith, it hides, it runs away to not be caught. And I found myself not believing again, my world becoming smaller, reduced to this material existence.

Despites of all that, you can easily find me in church on Sunday. I go there moved by some kind of inertia, because I consider that there you can’t learn anything bad and because I wish that one of those Sundays I find my lost connection with God, I long for the inner peace and happiness faith can give you back. But the day never comes and my believes in God are lower than never, so when I got up the past Sunday something inside of me rebeled against going to church, against anything having to do with that. And that’s how I started writing all this.

I don’t feel any emotion when I pray, feels like talking to the wall. I can’t help thinking that I’m the only one in universe listening those words. I don’t feel any emotion when I pray with other people in church, just a bunch of memorized words going out my mouth, without thinking on their meaning, like a machine. I don’t feel anything if I think about God, if someone tell me about Him. Maybe my heart is too bitter, too icy, it may have a lack of emotions…


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