CREATIVE NON-FICTION

love letter to a god i don’t believe in.

you are difficult to write love letters to.

every draft turns into a complaint.

i suppose that says something about both of us.

for one thing, i am not convinced you exist.

for another, i have spent an embarrassing amount of time being angry at you.

which is ridiculous.

people are not supposed to hold grudges against hypothetical beings.

yet here we are.

i stopped believing in you several times.

unfortunately, disbelief requires a certainty i have never possessed.

the first mistake was expecting consistency.

you have always had terrible communication skills.

years would pass.

then suddenly something beautiful would happen.

a stranger saying exactly the right thing.

sunlight arriving at the correct moment.

a coincidence so precise it felt almost rude.

and i would think,

there you are.

then nothing again.

honestly, you remind me of every person i have ever loved.

this is not a compliment.

once, a boy i liked fell in love with somebody else.

i knew before he told me.

he started smiling at his phone differently.

it is humiliating what heartbreak turns people into.

i learned her favorite color against my will.

i knew which songs he suddenly started listening to.

i knew things that should have remained none of my business.

i wish i could say i handled it with dignity.

instead i spent several weeks conducting imaginary arguments in the shower.

he never heard any of them.

neither did you.

this has happened often enough that i am beginning to suspect faith and unrequited love share a border.

people tell me suffering has a purpose.

i would like to return mine.

it does not fit.

i know what i am supposed to say.

i am supposed to talk about mystery.

about divine timing.

about plans too large for human understanding.

but there are days i want less mystery and more explanation.

there are days i want an apology.

there are days i would settle for a receipt confirming my prayers were delivered.

i wasn't asking for paradise.

i wasn't asking for miracles.

i wasn't asking you to rearrange the stars.

i wanted one person.

just one.

and you couldn't even manage that.

before anyone accuses me of selfishness, i should confess that they would be correct.

there are wars.

there are famines.

there are entire countries breaking apart.

and still i keep returning to the same absence.

the same name.

the same wound.

love has never understood scale.

that is the problem.

when someone leaves, the whole world develops a limp.

i spent years being angry with you for that.

years.

imagine.

being furious with someone you aren't even sure exists.

if nothing else, i have always been committed.

the embarrassing thing is that i keep coming back.

i stop praying.

i stop looking for signs.

i stop translating ordinary beauty into correspondence.

then somebody is kind to me when they don't have to be.

or i hear a song at exactly the right moment.

or i survive something i was convinced would destroy me.

and suddenly i am back on your doorstep again.

knocking.

which is humiliating.

if this were any other relationship, my friends would have staged an intervention years ago.

sometimes i imagine describing you to them.

they disappear for months at a time.

they never answer directly.

they have broken my heart repeatedly.

and somehow i am still making excuses for them.

the worst part is that i still want your attention.

which feels embarrassingly adolescent.

like checking whether someone viewed your story.

like rereading old messages.

like convincing yourself that coincidence is a form of communication.

sometimes i think faith is just longing that has nowhere else to go.

sometimes i think you are simply the name i gave mine.

i don't know if you exist.

i don't know if you've ever listened.

i don't know whether i have spent all these years speaking into an empty room.

but if you are there,

if by some miracle you are there,

i hope you understand that this letter was never really about belief.

it was about wanting.

it was always about wanting.

and perhaps that is why i keep writing to you.

because every love letter is, at its core, an admission of powerlessness.

a confession that someone else's existence has altered the architecture of your life.

you are difficult to write love letters to.

for one thing, i am not convinced you exist.

for another,

i have never quite managed to leave you alone.
A
About the Author Aaranya Rakhunde Narayana Vidyalayam, Chinchbhuvan, Nagpur · India

Aaranya Rakhunde is a student at Narayana Vidyalayam in Nagpur, India. Her writing explores faith, longing, and the uncomfortable space between belief and disbelief. This is her fourth piece in Aporia.

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