Closer To God

"Who was caught praying by the window?"
"Daniel, Mr. Stanton."
"And what happened to Daniel?"
"Daniel was sent to the lion's den."
"And then?"
"God saved him, and the king reversed the law and those who had convinced him to make the law
were thrown into the lion's den, along with their wives and children."
"Very good, Allie."

Pumping you full of fear, every day at twelve thirty five until one twenty in the afternoon.
That's how I see Bible class. They try to convert you to Christianity through fear! If you
don't accept God, you're going straight to Hell. I sat in the corner, keeping my head down,
trying to keep to myself. Bible isn't a real class, anyways. What does it matter when you're
trying to get into college, and you have a C- in Bible? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I then
felt like everyone was watching me, and I looked up to see my Bible teacher looking at me.

"Who prayed at the detication of a temple, Evan?"
"What?"

A slight laughter came from the class.

"Were you paying attention, Evan?"
"I can't say I was. But I do know the answer."
"Then please, tell me."
"Soloman."
"Very good."

Mr. Stanton gave me a disguisted look, and then went back to asking questions. Pffft. What's
his problem, anyways? No one likes me. I don't talk. I just keep my mouth shut and I do the
homework. I don't appreciate being singled out in class and being embarassed, even if all
forget it in a few seconds. I don't pass things that fast. I dwell on things for days at a
time, and then maybe they pass me by.

I glanced up at the clock. Only five more minutes left in this class. Science was next. I
glanced down at my feet. There I saw my science book. I shared my Bible and Science binder,
and on one ocassion, Stanton had yelled at me for bring the wrong books to class. I don't
understand teachers, they don't understand me. Its meant to be like that. I put my head in
my hands and began to think about what I always thought about in Bible.

Death. It was my main concern. It seems a little bit silly, that sometime like me -
being fourteen years old - would worry about dying so much. Well... I do. Sometimes I
accept the fact I'm going to die and there's nothing I can do to stop it, but then other
times I don't think I can die at all.

Is it possible that a person can die inside and live forever on the outside? If you can die
on the inside, then I've been dead for years, and rounds of ammunition are still being
poured into the corpse. I still have yet to achieve keeping the wounds on the insides of my
body. The bullets don't come out the way they went in - they stay in, poision my system,
and by the time I'm rid of them, enough blood has been bled out of my body to get rid of
them, enough flesh has been ridden of so it won't keep lurking.

Cutting myself sometimes is a gift. I don't like to cut myself. I don't like to mutilate
myself in general, but sometimes I'm in enough of a hell to do that. I cut to cover up the
pain that's eating away at my lungs. Eventually the pain that was covered makes it way
back over, making the cuts sting and all of my problems multiply. I don't cut myself
anymore, I'm glad to say that.

As I was thinking, the bell rang. I got up and I tried to keep my head down. My hair was
getting blown around in the wind way too damn much, and it beat itself against my eyes. I
walked a few feet over to the tree where I kept my books, and I dropped the Bible down and
made my way towards science. As I walked, I slid my sunglasses on. As I walked towards
the room, I looked at the only thing I cared about in front of me.

Everyone called her "Becka", but she went by "Bertie." I guess it was some kind of personal
joke. She had short light brown hair, and kept to herself. She was always in a group of
other girls - they weren't popular, either were they accepted by most the people in the
school. It was kind of the outcast group - the weird, nihilist ones that laughed about
ripping people's hearts out. Hell, if I was a girl, I would have been with them in a
second. But of course, I can't be with Bertie there. I can't really be with her anywhere,
and I absolutely hate it.

I arrived in the science class room and went to my seat in the back. Bertie sat a seat
away from me, and I could barely ever get a glance at her. Each time I did, she would
look back and raise her eyebrow. I sat down and jotted down the board questions, not
caring if I got them right or wrong. I rested my head on my hand and looked out the
window for just a second, and I closed my eyes.

I imagined walking through the school, holding two UzIs in my hands, gasmask strapped to my
face, trenchcoat blowing in the wind, loading bullets into everyone else's chest. To hell
with everyone. They've done this to me, they've turned me into this. They deserve the same
pain they caused me. But then I realized, I would kill myself after I killed them, and in a
way, they will have one. And then I would piss God off, and go to Hell. But I don't even
believed in Heaven or Hell. I think we just die and that's it. I don't know - what if there
is a God, and I get totally fucked over because I wasn't sure? What if there is none, and I
waste my life on faith? Thousands of questions I could ask and still I wouldn't get one
single answer.

I opened my eyes to hearing the sound of people's voices around me, and I looked down and
smiled. I have pretty interesting thoughts for a nihilistic boy staring out a window.