I’ve tried God, I’ve tried neutrality, I’ve tried getting naked in nature and “appreciating” the forms of old growth trees, I think it’s time I tried Satan.*
*For the purposes of the potential of my actually having or had control of my eternal soul, this blog and the contents herein do not constitute a binding contract. It’s like going into Baskin Robbins and taking a couple of sample spoons, I’m not obligated to buy a cone. If this caveat doesn’t work, then I hope Satan will take pity enough to only sodomize me with his four non-STI penises, and occasionally offer me a delicious iced beverage. Don’t skim this, Satan, this isn’t like most Fitzgerald novels or any app user agreement, this is important.
There was a time I was pious. A time where I would get righteously angry at my parents for using blasphemy, not recognizing the strange Biblical loop of hypocrisy that disagreeing with my parents spiraled me into. I prayed and saw God’s hand in everything.
Then I saw God’s hand in EVERYTHING, and the concept became disturbing. Praying became like asking a psychopath for favors as they were cutting you. “If–ow–you’re going to–yikes that hurts–throw my severed ear into the trash raw–oochie pooh–would you please throw out the trash? I’d hate to attract gnats.” So, we had to break up which left me agnostic, like a baseball player standing at the plate, never taking a swing as pitch after pitch sailed by, letting the umpire make every decision for me.
From there it was a gauntlet of pseudo-spirituality, attempts were made at organic oil-pulling holistic Ouija chakra natural Reiki detox. All I got was a rash and a very specific body odor.
Prayer, essential oils, meditation, ayahuasca trips, yoga, hot yoga, keeping the Sabbath holy, buying prayer rugs, subjugating any woman in arms reach, self-harm, making my hair disgusting while smoking astounding amounts of weed, none of it worked. None of it helped me achieve anything I wanted. I still had to actually take steps myself to get anywhere near a goal, contrary to promises offered.
Then I realized I skipped the most obvious step. I never tried the opposite of what I was doing. I should have tried to get some value out of my high-mileage, ragged soul. (Shh, I’m downplaying how spectacular, vibrant and gorgeous my soul is, it’s a sales technique, I think.)
Traditional avenues haven’t worked (I say as though selling your soul isn’t as old as religion), nothing I have done outside of actually doing the work has earned me anything and I don’t want to actually work. Even having worked hard for decades hasn’t earned me much of anything. If not Satan, what do I do, become a sociopath? I don’t want to do that.
Update: Satan didn’t want to work either. He rejected my offer. It could be my soul is sad and boring. He didn’t offer details, he only looked at me and laughed at the offer then disappeared in stinking brimstone, which I assume is a no. Sigh. I guess I should just be a good person and work for things on my own.