I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me,
"Why?"
Why did I cause so much pain?
Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness?
//
Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love?
I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong.
We are not special.
We are not crap or trash, either.
We just are.
We just are, and what happens just happens.
And God says,
"No, that's not right."
Yeah.
Well.
Whatever.
You can't teach God anything.
Cause yeah, that makes sense. Turn up with your long lost brother who is dead after 14 years and no one asks any questions and he instantly recognises everyone even though he’s never met any of them WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT
luckily it’s the end now.
fuck, why are film adaptations so shit sometimes.
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