Part 3 of 3- there is no real ending to the story
The last i remember, a pain in my side had been growing. Im thinking, broken rib, cancerous mass, the slowest heart attack EVER.
oh, and i do remember cursing God for shitin on me.
supreme beings just don't have any manners these days.
After camp, i became a real asshole. Not the fake kind like i was before where i figured its better for the bastards of the world to hate me then to never remember my name.
no, a real asshole.
My life came down to intellectually biting arms and finger-jabing eyes with a slew of words. Anytime people would talk, i would grasp any opportunity to boost my ego with becoming the crown winner and superstar of the entire meaningless stupid conversation.
I don't know my aunt, get over it.
This is my side though, thats important.
I need a fucking doctor but that would require admitting have a problem.
Tough it out wimp.
wait until your coughing up blood, thats a good indication of bad shit happening.
Somehow, someone convinced me to go to church monday. the youth thing. i just wasn't in the mood.
all the people that you would like to imagine like you, don't. All the people you cant stand ask to sit next to you.
i don't sleep when i should, and sometimes i nod off in church.
Church, oh yeah, this is where that one God who doesn't like me hangs out. He complicates my life by taking away family members, giving me unidentified physical ailments, stripping away from me any girl with an ounce of substance, and instead replacing them with superficial princess-whores.
Im obviously not listening to the message.
towards the end though, the paster says.
"if you went to camp, stand up."
i did go to camp, but standing takes effort.
and like i said, im a real asshole.
But friends around me laugh and pull me up, giggle some more, look around, then begin petting their bibles and other sacred book, kissing dating goodbye.
i hold my side for a moment, all this bullshit is weighing on me heavily.
"ok," the paster says, "everyone who's standing, come up to the front."
suddenly im in front of church with a group of camp kids, my legs are screaming "you should have never stood up."
the paster tells the rest of the people sitting in their chairs that if they want prayer, then come to us, because we went to camp, and that means all of are perfect fucking little emissaries from God.
ok, i added that last part.
I move to the back of the crowd, and frown. This way, no one in their right mind would come to me for prayer.
Someone, of course, does.
When you've gone to church your whole life, you can really fake a good prayer. Thats what i needed, a little makeshift quick prayer that i can throw at this guy.
"Dear lord." i begin, already proud of my act.
"please help...whats your name again...ryan...ok... lord please help ryan with these problems that..." search for those holy words "... bind his spirit and help him..." i've heard people say this before, so i'll use it. "walk on the path that you so wisely laid out for him."
Thanks God, peace out.
"amen"
Thanks man, he says. sure dude, now get the fuck out of my face.
Im pretty sure i thats not what i really said, but i cant be completly sure.
Well, that was easy, off the hook now, and begin to walk back to my seat.
One of the youth leaders stop me, shauna, and askes if i'll pray for someone.
No
"sure"
Damnit.
So she drags me to the other side of the stage, and says "his name is ben," which is weird conincidence, "and he came up for prayer but no one came up to him."
Here i am. here to save the day.
Then i found out why no one came up to pray for him.
Ben is a new member the church, a mentally and physically handicap teenager bound to a wheelchair.
what am i supposed to do? i sit next to him. i cant back out of this thing now. Shauna tells me that he cant speak very well, but he understands everything perfectly. He just cant get things to come out right.
So, do i make up one of my handy quick prayers and get the hell out of there?
oddly, i don't.
i ask him what he wants prayer for.
He says, in not so many words, that he's had a hard life so far, but he's always trusted in God for everything he needs, and... i think he says that he wants hope for the future.
i breath in, "ok", i start to pray for ben.
i ask God, this God who i complained about for giving me my shit life, to give us hope. To give ben the strength he needs to live the life he's intended.
Hearing my words, i cant justify... what am i trying to say?
I tell God, that ben has gone through a lot, he's always relied on you, and its through you, that Ben is man he is today.
i thought i would feel weird saying that as the words travel through my lungs, but out my lips, they were more the appropriate.
Ben might be the only man i know. Ben has more depth and love then i think i will ever have.
compared to ben, i pale in comparison.
i end off the prayer nearly commanding God to make clear to ben the will for his life, and to never, ever leave him.
i gave ben a small hug, but it lasted.
he trys a few times to say "thank you" and he gets there.
I cant say anything, i don't understand why he's thanking me, so i smile and nod. HIs father thanks me too, and i feel a little sick to my stomach. i go to sit down at my seat and rock a little.
my hands tremble.
while everyone is still praying, i walk alone to the outside of the church and collapse along the side of the wall.
im crying.
im not exaclty sure why, i haven't cried for years. (at least i don't think so)
i do know that this is the first time i've ever cried for something besides myself.
myself. Its not about myself.
I am positive there is a God, im just not sure if he's on my side.
is there hope found in tragedy?
i feel as if that ben, bound the wheelchair and boxed up in his own mind, trusting God for strength, that ben is miles ahead of this one.
Does God know something about me? is what im seeing mean anything?
maybe. maybe answers aren't to be found.
but im trying.
i stand up, wipe my damp face, and without words i walk to my car as everyone leaves the church. i feel my side.
Feels... normal.
oh, and i do remember cursing God for shitin on me.
supreme beings just don't have any manners these days.
After camp, i became a real asshole. Not the fake kind like i was before where i figured its better for the bastards of the world to hate me then to never remember my name.
no, a real asshole.
My life came down to intellectually biting arms and finger-jabing eyes with a slew of words. Anytime people would talk, i would grasp any opportunity to boost my ego with becoming the crown winner and superstar of the entire meaningless stupid conversation.
I don't know my aunt, get over it.
This is my side though, thats important.
I need a fucking doctor but that would require admitting have a problem.
Tough it out wimp.
wait until your coughing up blood, thats a good indication of bad shit happening.
Somehow, someone convinced me to go to church monday. the youth thing. i just wasn't in the mood.
all the people that you would like to imagine like you, don't. All the people you cant stand ask to sit next to you.
i don't sleep when i should, and sometimes i nod off in church.
Church, oh yeah, this is where that one God who doesn't like me hangs out. He complicates my life by taking away family members, giving me unidentified physical ailments, stripping away from me any girl with an ounce of substance, and instead replacing them with superficial princess-whores.
Im obviously not listening to the message.
towards the end though, the paster says.
"if you went to camp, stand up."
i did go to camp, but standing takes effort.
and like i said, im a real asshole.
But friends around me laugh and pull me up, giggle some more, look around, then begin petting their bibles and other sacred book, kissing dating goodbye.
i hold my side for a moment, all this bullshit is weighing on me heavily.
"ok," the paster says, "everyone who's standing, come up to the front."
suddenly im in front of church with a group of camp kids, my legs are screaming "you should have never stood up."
the paster tells the rest of the people sitting in their chairs that if they want prayer, then come to us, because we went to camp, and that means all of are perfect fucking little emissaries from God.
ok, i added that last part.
I move to the back of the crowd, and frown. This way, no one in their right mind would come to me for prayer.
Someone, of course, does.
When you've gone to church your whole life, you can really fake a good prayer. Thats what i needed, a little makeshift quick prayer that i can throw at this guy.
"Dear lord." i begin, already proud of my act.
"please help...whats your name again...ryan...ok... lord please help ryan with these problems that..." search for those holy words "... bind his spirit and help him..." i've heard people say this before, so i'll use it. "walk on the path that you so wisely laid out for him."
Thanks God, peace out.
"amen"
Thanks man, he says. sure dude, now get the fuck out of my face.
Im pretty sure i thats not what i really said, but i cant be completly sure.
Well, that was easy, off the hook now, and begin to walk back to my seat.
One of the youth leaders stop me, shauna, and askes if i'll pray for someone.
No
"sure"
Damnit.
So she drags me to the other side of the stage, and says "his name is ben," which is weird conincidence, "and he came up for prayer but no one came up to him."
Here i am. here to save the day.
Then i found out why no one came up to pray for him.
Ben is a new member the church, a mentally and physically handicap teenager bound to a wheelchair.
what am i supposed to do? i sit next to him. i cant back out of this thing now. Shauna tells me that he cant speak very well, but he understands everything perfectly. He just cant get things to come out right.
So, do i make up one of my handy quick prayers and get the hell out of there?
oddly, i don't.
i ask him what he wants prayer for.
He says, in not so many words, that he's had a hard life so far, but he's always trusted in God for everything he needs, and... i think he says that he wants hope for the future.
i breath in, "ok", i start to pray for ben.
i ask God, this God who i complained about for giving me my shit life, to give us hope. To give ben the strength he needs to live the life he's intended.
Hearing my words, i cant justify... what am i trying to say?
I tell God, that ben has gone through a lot, he's always relied on you, and its through you, that Ben is man he is today.
i thought i would feel weird saying that as the words travel through my lungs, but out my lips, they were more the appropriate.
Ben might be the only man i know. Ben has more depth and love then i think i will ever have.
compared to ben, i pale in comparison.
i end off the prayer nearly commanding God to make clear to ben the will for his life, and to never, ever leave him.
i gave ben a small hug, but it lasted.
he trys a few times to say "thank you" and he gets there.
I cant say anything, i don't understand why he's thanking me, so i smile and nod. HIs father thanks me too, and i feel a little sick to my stomach. i go to sit down at my seat and rock a little.
my hands tremble.
while everyone is still praying, i walk alone to the outside of the church and collapse along the side of the wall.
im crying.
im not exaclty sure why, i haven't cried for years. (at least i don't think so)
i do know that this is the first time i've ever cried for something besides myself.
myself. Its not about myself.
I am positive there is a God, im just not sure if he's on my side.
is there hope found in tragedy?
i feel as if that ben, bound the wheelchair and boxed up in his own mind, trusting God for strength, that ben is miles ahead of this one.
Does God know something about me? is what im seeing mean anything?
maybe. maybe answers aren't to be found.
but im trying.
i stand up, wipe my damp face, and without words i walk to my car as everyone leaves the church. i feel my side.
Feels... normal.