• A Five Minute Conversation With God
    By "Rabbit"


    God had let me down again. Life had let me down. Hell, even I had let me down. It wasn't even just that, it wasn't even the disappointment. It was the day I finally knew that I was hopeless in every sense of the word. I was never going to be what everyone expected, I was never going to achieve anything I wanted, or anything everyone else wanted for that matter.

    Maybe it was the fight I had with my mother that drove me to it. Maybe it was the exam I didn't have time to study for. Maybe it was just the fact that I had been running from myself for as long as I could remember and had finally hit a wall I couldn't get around. I was trapped, I was alone. Scratch that. From how I'd been raised, I always had the notion in the back of my mind that I wasn't alone; God was there, always watching, always listening. I knew that he was probably watching me now, laughing his head off at my distress. He certainly wasn't answering any of my prayers.

    I did the only thing I knew to do. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. Wait, no. That's not everything that happened, that's not how it all exactly went down. The least I can do is lay it all out on the table, provide you with an accurate time line. Listing the last things I did before I died might be the only thing I can do correctly, so here goes.

    It wasn't long after a petty argument with my mother that I felt it. It was the familiar sting of tears trying to fight their way free from my eyes. It hurt, it made my nose smart. I remember how I crinkled it and felt like screaming at myself. I don't cry, I never cry. I guess that was the start of the end. I cried and therefore I knew I had reached my last limit. I was past the point of no return, I was crying. That's when I reached for the bottle of sleeping aids and realized that overdose alone wouldn't guarantee an end to the sensory overload I was dealing with. That's where the bathroom comes in, I guess. I grabbed whatever pills I could and locked myself in.

    So set the scene; the floor was littered with dirty towels that were starting to smell like mold, the counter was covered in makeup stains and boxes of band-aids, and pieces of jewelry I never wore. Under a bottle of cheap perfume was the double edged sliver of silver release. I grabbed it while I filled a cup with water.

    I took the sleeping pills first. I figured I'd at least be relaxed when I did the more painful deed. I can spare you the real dirty details. I swallowed, sat down on the floor and just...did it. I was cursing God the entire time, picturing some old guy in white, laughing. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. Everything just faded. Thoughts drifted on religion, I figured when the black receded, I'd be in hell. More childhood teachings from the church.

    What pissed me off the most was the fact that dying was nothing like people have said it would be. I didn't see any white light and there were none of my dead relatives waiting with open arms to guide me to the next place. Was this what going to hell was like? But here's the part that struck me as really weird; when that black haze lifted, I wasn't in a fiery pit of despair. I was walking down a street in the city, the smell of smog the first thing that came to my attention.

    At first, the city looked empty. Then I realized that it wasn't, there were people walking around in a hurry. Someone passed me, but didn't look in my direction. Was I a ghost? No one seemed to see me. I know because I had started to shout and wave my arms just to see if anyone could. I neared a street corner and saw a man slumped against the wall of a building. He was long haired, some kind of hippie I figured. Smoking a cigarette and minding his own business. Baggy jeans and a dirty white shirt. Nobody special, I didn't think. Not until he looked up and into my eyes.

    He could see me.


    Our eyes met and I approached him. As I did, I felt an odd tug of familiarity about him. I knew this guy from somewhere, I just couldn't place where. He was tall. I barely reached his shoulders. He nodded when I reached him, and I leaned against the wall beside this guy, trying to act like I wasn't shocked or confused.

    "Hey" I said, knowing someone could see me, maybe he could explain what was happening. Why I wasn't in heaven or hell.

    "Hey there, Satori Jones." His voice was louder than I expected, but just as deep and rugged sounding. But how did he know?
    How did he know that?! Satori Jones was the name I used online, and as a general alias when I didn't want to be myself. How could this guy possibly know me? The realization was sudden. I did know this man, just not by face. By presence.

    "Hey, God." I figured I'd throw him for a loop, too. After all, if he had just answered a prayer or two, I wouldn't be here now...right? Then I realized that I wasn't shocked or confused anymore. I was really angry. Flipping mad. "So where were you, anyway? I mean, I killed myself. You could have done something, you could have made things right! You could have just made those feelings go away! Where were you?!" I was shouting now. I was crying again. Damn. Could dead people actually cry? Guess so.

    "I was right here." He said it so nonchalantly. Like everybody knew. "But so long as we're both here at the same time, why don't we make the best of it? Ask anything. I have five minutes." What did he mean by that? And how could he be so damn serene?

    "Oh yeah?" I didn't even know what to say. Ask him anything? What the hell was I supposed to ask? I was dead, what did I need to know? I guess I had nothing to lose and only knowledge to gain, so I decided to play his game. "Then why didn't you write the bible yourself? Why did you have those other guys do it? Huh? Were you too busy standing on street corners or something?"

    "I did write it. I wrote my words through my people. They were chosen to deliver the messages, and they were blessed to do so. Besides, kid. do you think that more people would have believed if I had actually signed it 'Jesus' or something?" Still calm as can be. But the way he spoke still made me question if this was even God or not. But in whatever heart I had left, I knew it was.

    "Okay, I guess that makes sense.." Suddenly humbled. I scuffed my sneaker against the ground and shoved my hands in my pockets. What to ask now? I just closed my eyes and willed something to come. After a few moments, something did. "Why did you let him die?" A tear slid down my cheek. He'd know who I was talking about. And if he didn't, I'd punch this God right then and there.

    "Your friend made the same choice you did. My part in his decision was a small one. He was the one who disregarded life and felt he had to end his. I did not 'let' him die, some things just are."

    What kind of answer was that? Yeah, my best friend had killed himself about a year ago. No one had even known he was depressed. He was one person who had always understood me, it had been so hard to cope with him gone..and all God had to say was that 'some things just are' ? I let the tears fall where they may. I didn't care if he saw. I knew I was running out of time. Five minutes with God. What was going to happen to me after?

    "You said you had five minutes. What happens to me when you have to go back to doing whatever it is you do? Are you going to send me to hell?" I was scared. I was sad. I had killed myself to escape these feelings, but yet here they were..still with me. I slumped down further and tried to brace myself for his answer.

    "Is that what you want? What if I were to send you back? Would you try again?"

    Hey! I thought I was asking the questions here! Wasn't that some kind of crime against etiquette? Answering a question with another question?
    "No, that's not what I want..I just thought..you know..suicide and all that. I guess if I went back I'd have to do something differently, wouldn't I? I mean, I'd have to try again at life. I just..don't know how, God. Why do you think I died in the first place? I didn't know how and you weren't there to help. You were gone. I asked for help and you didn't answer!" My voice sounded small now. I felt an inch high. Is that what he planned on doing? Giving me another chance? Why would he? What if I didn't want it? Maybe I didn't. Maybe I did.

    "Not everything is what people say it is, don't you know? And I was there, right there with you, but you didn't want to face the truth. You didn't want to face yourself, you ran from my words." Cocky for a God. At least that was my first thought. Then again, this was God of all people. I had stopped crying, and felt comforted. Was it him doing that? He hadn't moved but I swore I felt arms embracing me. I looked up and into his face. Ageless, but timeless at the same time. Hope laced his features. Light radiated from somewhere, a light I hadn't noticed at first. It came and went, I realized. An angelic glow that he seemed to turn on and off like a flashlight. He took a drag off his cigarette and seemed to wait for my next question, my last one, I realized. I had one more question to ask God. I almost felt like I had wasted the others, but I knew I hadn't. I had asked them for a reason. Learned something from them. I just couldn't figure what yet..but I knew someday I would.

    "God..can I have another chance? I know what your voice feels like..and.." I had to stop, I was starting to cry again. I started to feel scared again. But not alone. "God..I know I can listen now. I know I can hear you. I want to try again, I want to live. I know what you can do, and even though you weren't what I expected...I can just feel that you really are what people, the bible, what everything made you out to be. I know you forgive me because right now, I ask for your forgiveness. Please, God, give me another chance.." I choked out that last sentence. I was quietly crying, silently waiting for his answer. I was so afraid.

    "Wasn't I just what you expected?" For the first time, God looked down and smiled at me. I realized that he had appeared just as I had always pictured God. The laughing a*****e that I used to imagine in my head. Sure, there was still something holy about him, but he was also almost..human. "Before I answer your question, I'd like to ask you just one of my own." He proposed this, and all I could do was nod my head. Looking at him hopefully, ready to answer anything.

    "Why did you do it? You took your own life, one that I had given you. Why?"

    Why had I really done it? Did I know? I thought it was because I was finished with living. That everything had become too much. I had blamed almost everyone but myself at the time. I had cursed God while I faded into death. That wasn't the real reason, though. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and really let the thoughts flow through my head. I could feel myself shaking. I had felt abandoned by God but I had killed myself because I had stopped believing in everything and anything. I hadn't even committed suicide for a solid reason. I looked back at something that felt years old and saw that it had been petty. I was tired but unwilling to hear God's words of comfort because I hadn't wanted them. I had wanted a quick, easy way out of everything. I had got it, or so I had thought until five minutes ago. The things I tried to escape had followed me even here. I guess there was no real escape, not until it was time or something. He had a plan for me, and I had strayed from it.

    "Did you know it was going to happen? I mean..I was always told..." I let myself trail off a moment. There I was again, listening to what people had said, and not God himself. "I did it because I was afraid. I did it because I wasn't able to let myself hear you. Maybe..maybe I did it because I wanted this; these five minutes with you. I'm sorry, God.." That was all I could say. I knew it wasn't enough, but I hoped God at least could tell what I meant by it all. I never did get the answer to my final question.

    Instead I had blinked and opened my eyes to doctors stitching my wrists up and pumping blood into my veins. Instead of God's forgiving face I saw the worried and terrified expression on the face of my mother. These doctors worked feverishly to piece me back together physically. I felt weak, but emotionally I felt just as serene as God had seemed. With what strength I could physically muster, I spoke aloud two words;

    "Thank you."