As someone who has held his dad's hand as the lifeforce runs out, whispering regrets and apologies far too late, the concept of god in all his glory may seem an attractive quilt to wrap around and protect him from the cold.
Infinity.
I could get angry with god, maybe even rationalise at some point that all that happened to members of my family, backwards through time, arriving here at my feet in sentience, was justified, a demonstration of undenying love.
Improbability.
Don't pity me, don't try and convince me, but my belief in anything godlike has been shaved away to nothing over the years, not because of what I feel has been done to me, but what was done to them.
An odd internet message, but, god, I do not believe in you.
And I will not forgive you.
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