I believe in God. Not because I have faith that everything happens for a reason or that there exists a heaven and hell. I believe in God because it is convenient to have somebody to blame when things go wrong in my life. I am aware that this is sacrilegious and I will probably be struck by lightening or herpes. But it's hard to believe that this much shit can be dumped on one person without somebody deriving some sort of enjoyment out of causing it.
Like the time I turned out gay. Or the time my parents hated me (this goes hand in hand with the first one I guess). Or the time I thought I was dying from AIDS. Or the time I had four exams in one day. Or the time Taylor Swift enjoyed continued success. This sounded less melodramatic in my head.
Recently, I've been convinced that God's work has taken the form of drunken bitches. And in a strangely literal turn, he has possessed them to spill shit on me and my things.
First instance, a beer is spilled on my desk in the middle of the night. I find my new ipod floating face down in this alcoholic sea, alone and lifeless. I have no conclusive proof of who did this because I was blacked out on my bed at the moment. The entire situation seems too much like a game of Clue for my liking. Maybe the beer was knocked over by the Russian girl, with her hips, at 3am. Or maybe it was my BF, with his penis, at 4.
Second instance, my laptop is hijacked to provide the music for a party. A skinny girl spills her vodka and hawaiian punch on my keyboard and blames her boyfriend for bumping into her. Bitch please. In the the process of cleaning, irreparable damage is caused to the t, y, g, n, space keys. This girl is not really a close friend so I can't exactly make passive aggressive comments to her face about paying me for the damage. So I resort to making passive aggressive comments behind her back about her speech impediment and english-pea sized head. Actually, there was nothing passive about that.
Third instance, my closest friends keep spilling lies about how much I love to eat cock. I mean, cock is not bad I guess. But honestly, I prefer Chinese food.
And then there's this instance a long time ago where I explicitly told a guy where he should not come. That is all I'm going to say about that.
This is all upsetting because all I can't help but think "why me?" The only way I can get any emotional relief is by blaming God and the fact that He's just not that into me.
This is wrong. I know it. If there really is a God out there, somewhere past the stars and where Mariah Carey's mind now resides, He would not be pleased. And this is yet another unhealthy relationship to work on.