Is this disrespectful? Maybe I've just gotten way too used to a world where I can simultaneously feel like the largest being on the earth (while looking down on the ants) and the smallest being in the universe (while looking up at the stars). Maybe I just poured way too much of myself into sleeping within the folds of her sighs. How can heaven reproduce this feeling? Or even surpass it? How can any mystically foreign place pretend to be better than what I have right now? Being ecstatic and enlightened and fucking happy can only be recognized next to the sucky, awful times in between. And so the land of milk and honey only sounds appealing to me when it is interwoven with the land of broccoli and cough medicine.
I don't know what God looks like, the way I can recognize the creases by my father's eyes. I don't know what God sounds like, the way I know the sound of wind moving by my car windows in summer. I would feel out of place meeting Him, but I feel absolutely at home in the basements of my friends' houses. This life is all I know, so how can an idea as alien as death (or rebirth) become my eternity?
Maybe it's the lack of progression. Heaven has no evolution. Life does not change up there, because there is no life. Only continuity. It's a kind of stagnant, manufactured happiness. So practiced and detached, it has no need of emotion or rebellion. Disgusting. Monday does not gust into Tuesday (or Wednesday or Thursday); it's just one ceaseless day of the week. What is the goddamn difference. I already feel eternal. I already feel infinite. I don't need a promised land.
