Speaking quietly with him, I tapped away on a calculator. No matter how much I try to add the meaning of life through addition, the total amount remains negative. I do not want to live. It is simply not easy to grow attached to this world.
I do not revere God. The characteristics of God depicted by humans are far too human. If I were God, I wouldn't dream of being praised or awed by the creations I made. I would merely tend to the world delicately, hoping they would spend joyful days in the universe I created. However, the God that humans depict and follow is as if they are depicting a king. The king bestows food and drinking water, and they praise the king. He gives a barren land, and when He hands them abundance, they praise God. It is exactly the same. If an entity that inflicts deprivation and demands praise is what God is, I have no intention of following such a God.
I absolutely cannot accept that a perfect being like God wishes to be venerated through human emotions. If so, He is not a perfect God, but merely an infantile being. If the world made by an omniscient and omnipotent entity is barely in this kind of shape, I cannot believe in that God. If He was going to create a world of barely this level and face the blood-price experienced by the vast majority of people, He shouldn't have made such a shoddy universe in the first place. But damn it. Having already been forced into birth, all I have witnessed is that I must struggle to survive according to the instincts of DNA, and attempt to reproduce under the name of sexual desire. It can be called a horrific curse. This wretched life.
When doing the calculations with God, one can see that God owes an immense debt to humanity. Why did humans have to come to the world He created, serving as a folding screen and becoming mere objects? It was barely for His amusement. For amusement. To look good. I absolutely cannot acknowledge a psychopath who births living entities and flings them into harsh environments just to look good. It is no different from adopting a pet you cannot handle. Rather, is ending a short life a blessing? Why does the desire to live in this tedious world fail to arise so completely?
I was empty. I tried to grasp something to fill this hollow chest, but I cannot find meaning by any means. God. Love. Pleasure. Wealth. Honor. Even the vast amount of money I could earn if I set my mind to it. Even the things I could obtain if I discarded my conscience. Why on earth did I have to be born? Why am I living?
I hope that God does not exist. If God exists, I feel as though I would want to kill Him with my own hands. To tell Him, You are not God. No matter how grand a purpose He held, if the other party does not know it, and if you add up the total sum of the lives of the people who suffered while it was chalked up as a 'great purpose'—what kind of legitimacy does that even hold? Still, those who follow Him simply want to believe. It is like propaganda. The propaganda that humans are sinners. The ridiculous propaganda that says, "Humans are sinners, but since He saved us from that, we ought to be grateful." I cannot follow that message. I cannot believe it. I cannot agree with it.
If He was omniscient, He would have already seen my present as well. I have no idea what on earth He was thinking, leaving humans behind like ants in an antlion's pit, but I cannot revere Him. I hope He is a mere creature and not the Absolute. If He is the Absolute, it must be a truly cursed world. To think that all a guy called the Absolute does is barely something like this. To think that we must struggle to obtain something in barely this kind of world. The negative on my calculator simply cannot rise to a plus, and my conclusion is merely a desire to hack away this stalk of a curse straight from its root.