Tonight I'm going to do something I have rarely done in the two years I've been making this feeble attempt to write about the innumerable threats of faith - I'm going to discuss matters of a more intimate nature. I have chosen to write about what is happening with me, right now.

I don't like doing this. It's a stupidly selfish endeavor, and I never had this sort of thing in mind whenever I sat down to dream up this sordid little project. Welcome to the Godless Fellowship: the best of secular blogging from around the internet, the worst of an anonymous 23-year-old boy with no better hope than to spend the remnants of his youth clawing desperately at the foundation of a mythic, monumental horror. Enjoy your stay.

The sum of my experiences is a largely irrelevant factor in this, and I absolutely refuse to assume the arrogance of one who believes there is a worthwhile audience for any subject matter even approaching the story of my life. In all this time the precious few snatches of true wisdom have been much like the presence of honest friends - exceedingly rare and fleeting. There is only the hole in which I now find myself and the subtle knowledge that somewhere along the line I found it prudent to compensate for my affectionate intolerance of normality with an uphill struggle against what is possibly the most beautiful lie ever told.

There are other sublime perjuries floating listlessly around each one of us every day, the most enticing of which being the ones that never get to run their full course. Open the wrong door in an unfamiliar neighborhood and you just might find that the people in whom you've placed your trust have been waiting, spades in hand, for the next opportunity to dig your hole just a little bit deeper. It's the most dangerous misstep I believe anyone can possibly make, as once you find yourself lying dazed and broken in the dirt they just might do their best to convince you that it was your fault for turning the doorknob.

If there is one good thing about myself, it is that I am generally more than willing to embrace my own shortcomings and make my best attempt to turn them into virtues. Although the success rate for that particular exercise is desperately feeble, at some point or another I can faithfully look into the eyes of just about anyone and admit that I have been an irresponsible fool. My list of unjustifiable offenses against myself and others is at least one entry longer than seemingly everyone else around me, and for that I graciously take an insignificant morsel of pride. It is probably one of the few things I have ever truly earned.

In conventional terms, some of them think I have a disorder. My actions rarely ever precede my words. When I let it happen I inadvertently expose my will to the juvenile scrutiny of my fellow animals. These boorish husks of humanity who have emptied themselves in a futile pursuit to bend the nature of understanding and rewrite the meaning of otherwise reputable words to suit their every floundering urge seek to enlighten me with their ill-begotten secrets. They have earned this message.

Yes, I struggle with myself sometimes. I take my seat before this radiant screen every night to try and illicit something that will make the fight a little easier for me, and in this sense I am dependent. I am flawed with a glowing white rage which demands that certain measures be taken to ensure my essential functionality as a member of this filthy, depraved society I have somehow become a part of. It is fueled by the things I have to do to and the savage tyrants I have to bow to with each passing day just to secure this cold little trench you have helped me unearth. I can practically feel its flames licking at my heels with the simple thought that the world is densely populated with people who share at least one or two of your subversive ideals.

I will not be rewritten. As long as I am afforded the luxury of one or two reverent minds, I will not be silenced. These are my simple truths, and you are now free to go about the practiced task of convincing yourself that there is not a single line present on this page which makes sense to you.

My name is Michael Chambers, and I have grown all too tired of this false face so many of you have grown accustomed to. For those who know me, I have now spoken my peace. For those who don't, I'd like to present you with your first opportunity to put a name and a face to all of the looming heresies you will find here.



There is nothing more.

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