Actually, sometimes I DO have fist fights with God - verbal ones of course...but oh lord watch out for the flogging of an angry woman's tongue!
The nice thing about Him is that He always hears me out, always takes the punches and doesn't try punching back...I guess cuz He knows the drill by now:
a- a tirade of accusations b- alternation of bawling/blowing nose c- inner peace
More times than not, I get the nagging feeling He's just a spectator - an empathetic spectator of course, but still...
After that its party time for the little Miss Piggy in my tummy...comfort food here we come! On the menu tonight we have: McRoyal Combo Large, diet coke (can, not from the freakin' machine), chocolate sundae (extra fucking chocolate!)
N.B.Even if I have facial tissues at home, I always use toilet paper - the process wouldn't seem right otherwise - just staying true to the origins of this timeless one woman show showdown.
"Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret" - Judy Blume. Just an afterthought to this whole thing. That book has stayed with me ever since way back when.
Sometimes, though, I'm kinda embarrassed on behalf of all us humans for all the melodramatics we unleash on Him in private: "Why?! Why do you do this to me?! I don't deserve this!" A la Hamlet fashkh. Maybe we have to take it more like a man. Or maybe man doesn't have to take it to begin with.
I think maybe He's a spectator - an empathetic spectator - for a reason.
Oh well. Miss Piggy's hollering.
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