I don’t know what to believe . . . I don’t know what to make of this paradoxical world. I don’t get why I am so lucky, why I live in excess, while other’s live in squalor. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
My school, and my culture for a large part, tell me to turn to God. But what will this do, I often ask my self? I see it as a cop-out—as a way of shifting the responsibility from us to God. It’s like saying “God will decide if I get into this college or that college, because he is the one in control.” It’s like George Bush saying, “God told me to go to war!” It’s nothing but an excuse. They tell me that God is all-loving and all-powerful, but why, then, is there so much suffering in the world. Why do the children in Iraq have to grow up in a raging war zone? Why do so many kids around the world die every day from hunger? Is it my fault? Do I deserve my life?
For some reason or other, and I know it has to do with reason, I am inclined to not believe in God. I perceive everything as reality: that we are here on earth, and this is our chance to live, and when we die we are dead, and nothing is going to change that, no one is going to decide my fate, no one except myself. I don’t claim to have complete control over my life—no one actually does—but I have been given unbelievable opportunities to pursue a higher education, and I am going to take advantage of them. I have the ability to make decision, which will then affect the world. Ultimately, I hope to be able to pass on some of my great opportunities to others, to the disadvantaged, and the needy. I hope to make a difference in the world, because I know I can. I believe that I can make a difference.
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