Deal With God

At that point I just wondered what his end game was. Protecting her? Admirable, but she’d never appreciate the condescension. Although perhaps on that note, it was her pride that was at fault. What I suspected though, was that it was born out of self-hatred. He did not believe that God loved him, in mercy or in grace. No. It was his moral virtue against the world. Nothing more. And nothing less. Maybe denying himself his heart’s desire was his way of punishing himself. Maybe that was his deal with God. Maybe if he gave up his quest for love God might forgive him of his past mistakes. Perhaps if he gave up what he wanted most, then God would call it even.
So he’d give up his dream of love and admire it from afar. From the corner table in a bar or behind a pen and paper. He’d drown himself in loneliness and punish himself for that too. He’d punish himself for still longing, even though he’d given up hope. He’d punish himself for laughing, for pulling her into his arms. It was only just a moment, no he’d hadn’t even asked her out. But it was just too much, too much good for him. He couldn’t afford to enjoy himself. He couldn’t taint something pure.
So he found his way through life in a series of empty bottles and cigarette butts. In as many friends and late night hours as he could fret away. It was the nights he hated most, that’s why he always went out. It was the nights he hated most, because then he’d think of her and everyone else he’d lost. It was the nights he hated most, because it was then he felt most alone.
And that is why he felt like the whole world was caving in.

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