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First of all, I want to apologize for writing "Christ Fuck," which this is taking the place of. As you must know, I hardly ever take down my literature; I believe that even my weakest thoughts need to be preserved for mankind. But maybe there's just a little arrogance involved with this. I'm not interested in false humility. I've read a lot of books and heard a lot of ideas. I've taken those which seemed the most sound, made them my own, and adapted them to fit what I've seen of th world. And though this society doesn't give me much credit, I feel that as an intellectual, I'm ahead of my time.
But lately, I've had this wonderful feeling of starting to really believe in you, in a benevolent force far beyond human comprehension. And lately, you've blessed me with such good luck that I can hardly ascribe it to chance. And I thank you for helping me to resolve to get clean and to hold with it for two days now.
But... you know what I have to say. Why was I born to this miserable existence? For all the happy days, the artistic voyages and the small pleasures, my life has not been a happy one. I am persecuted by society; they won't accept me the way you made me. If some small part of this is due to my arrogance, most of it is due to things I can't control: my lack of social intelligence, my lack of coordination, and even my creative impulse. My childhood was persecuted by bullies and secluded in pariahism. Now, after all the drugs and dissapointments, even my happiest days, like today, are haunted by anxiety. Why Lord?
But, Lord, whatever form you take, you've created me and I am your servant. I will try to be a better servant. Oh Lord, I will attend to my duties better. I won't distort the mind you gave me. I will treat my fellow creatures better. Give me the discipline to follow through with this. And, Lord, please give me happiness; my cup overfloweth with suffering.