“If there really is a god why is he letting me suffer?”
I constantly asked myself this question growing up, I bounced from foster home to foster home, some abusive and some super religious. Being forced into religion, being told there was a man who lived upstairs and loved his creation was absolutely confusing and crushing to me. I couldn’t believe there was a god, I didn’t want to.
“What’s the point?”
This was the main question in middle and high school, what’s the point of my existence? “Nobody would give a damn if I disappeared tomorrow”. My sophomore year in high school I tried to commit suicide, this included a failed attempt of downing a bunch of pills and passing out in a tub full of water, found by my ex-boyfriend who had saved my life.