I remember reading Chicken Soup for the Soul and wondering why the Atheist suddenly converted to Christianity only after his parrot died leaving him lonely and friendless.

Apparently God was his only answer to being truly happy.

Even as a kid I questioned God and Jesus and their other homies. My doubts arose not from my mother being a “non-believer” (because believe me she is a believer) but from the fact that God didn’t stop my sister from getting smacked in the face with a metal pole by our dad and Jesus didn’t tell my father to stop molesting me.

By eleven years old I already knew that praying to God was as useful as playing kickball with my toaster. Now I read books and watch TV and it seems that everyone doesn’t believe in a God or Goddess (or toaster) and I can’t help but wonder why? I understand what makes me fucked up and jaded to the point where I want to rain on some kids parade, and tell her that the Easter Bunny sodomized her grandpa—but what about everyone else?

In school, it seemed like “atheism” became the new it thing to do. There were “rockers” and “emo’s” and every other inbetween genre group that was pissed at the world and trying to argue their point to the Jesus Junkies when even they didn’t know what point they were suppose to make.

I’m still trying to figure out the jist of their ‘no God’ theories because for all the talk about religion robbing people of their right to live, I can still find it beautiful.

Because I wish that I could believe in something higher than anything I know. I think it’s beautiful to feel that there is someone, or some place out there other than a hole in the ground with your name on it.

I don’t mind the religious fundamentalist Bible thumpers that come to my door or hang out on the street corner practically SHOVING that “Watch Tower” pamphlet in my mouth, ‘cause for me it’s like being five again and it’s Christmas morning and the new Barbie I’ve been having wet dreams about is under that tree with a letter from the fat man himself congratulating me on being such a good girl that year. I don’t think it’s such a horrible thing to believe. —Janet Lagto