Pascal’s Wager

What I wouldn’t give to believe. What I wouldn’t give to throw myself into religious ecstasy. To give my soul away, without hesitation, to some higher power. I pray to a god I’m not sure exists. Out of habit. Out of obligation. Out of some deep-seated hope that everyone else is right—that somewhere out there, there is a god who cares.

What I wouldn’t give to believe. What I wouldn’t give to not feel such profound loneliness in the rooms where they say God resides. To not feel so alone when I pray. But, still, I pray to a god I’m not sure exists. Out of habit. Out of obligation. Out of some deep-seated need to fill this hole in my chest.

What I wouldn’t give to believe. What I wouldn’t give to not base my faith off of some wager—but to really, truly believe. To find comfort in the melancholic melodies of the songs we sing in church. And still, I pray to a god I’m not sure exists. Out of habit. Out of obligation. Out of some deep-seated desire to have something—anything—to rely on.