What does my god bid me to do? Must I be strong. Must I continuously earn your conditional love?

There are many gods. Mine likes me much more than you. Others certainly hate me and perhaps are more powerful. But I, we, bide our time, to another world perhaps. But, here matters still, as things are far more continuous than many realize...

That they may ridicule means nothing. Because I ridicule them in return.

Lucia Di Lammermoor played very loud in the car. Broccoli for dinner.

I am special. I matter. Because my god loves me conditionally. He loves me, but not you.

Invent this, to continue on. Conscious mysticism. Whatever. Perhaps a mirror of me, that's really really big! A picture of power, that's on my side. That cares about me. That gives life some sort of vague reason. What reason? Ultimately the same as even a self proclaimed atheist would have.