I don’t like talking to atheists before I go to bed. Atheists are dangerous because they take a stand not to believe. Agnostics coast. They abstain and tip 13%. Believers and non-belivers take a stance. They fold their arms, dig their feet in, and abide by rules. Atheists and believers have faith; they choose to believe something one way or another without proof. It’s the agnostics you’ve got to worry about. Those charlie browns have no faith. Agnostics play it safe and belong at home under the covers. Atheists, though, worry me. I picture them in a storm, ripping off their shirts, screaming for the world to swallow them whole. Who are they screaming to?

I know I’m going to have nightmares. I won’t be dreaming of red devils or split tails… it’s nothing like that. It’s more, the discussion of only believing in god when you’re in pain. I don’t want to be reminded of fetal position, of crying out for help, before I sleep. It makes me antsy and nervous. I’m biting my nails and the inside of my mouth. I’m pacing. Don’t do that. Can you save it for coffee next time? I think I believe in god. And I don’t think it matters if I do or not. I behave the same way either way… except maybe believing in god makes pain easier to take. You’ve got someone pulling for you, something there in the middle of the night when you’re alone and worried about your life. Sometimes my path feels narrow and lonesome; so let me think what I want. It might only help me through a night, but it’s something.