Stranger!

Your religion is an avoidance of life. In vain attempts, you puncture reality with your improbable fantasies, thinking these rose-tinted-shit-stained glasses will be your salvation. You salivate at every minuscule sign that you might be right, clinging to the deck of your sinking ship and imagining that it's still bobbing safely on the ocean waves despite all evidence to the contrary. Right upon shore is a cool and sweet spring from which you may wet your dry and bleeding lips.
Your dehydration is not virtuous. It is sad and pathetic.


Your delusions merit no pride. Unrealistic, anti-progressive, life-denying, and reason-defying, you defile the art of being human with your insatiable need for righteousness. Misplaced virtuosity stands in the way of experiencing existence as it is and enjoying an enigmatic universe on the basis of its impermanence. The lack of inherent or god-like meaning is our true salvation -- our liberation from the toils and spoils of cultural and biological chains. While we experience life to its extent, you can rattle your chains in defiance, bound to damp and dark cave walls. Your chains may be noisy, but they're just noise.