Why is it okay when God kills people?

[J a c k]

See... this is all good stuff. I was one of those committed church girls growing up, but the church paid me with a spit in the eye. Everything from a Bible Institute shoving me into a tiny room for two months, to making me ask for forgiveness at the mic in front of 500 people and confess fornication. But! I still wanted to "make-up" with the god. I started to read the Bible start to finish again and this time things were different. The god sucked balls! He was selfish, cruel, petty, knew nothing of nature or science, hated women, and promoted violence. I still believed he existed, but that he was one mean mofo.

This was good, though. I was in the midst of fearing him and thinking I'd have to keep trying to like him until I could come up with a better plan, when my already secretly atheist brother told me something like,"Dude. Think about it. Nobody is here, and nobody will know if you ask yourself these questions. Just try. Who wrote the Bible? Literally who wrote it?" Hmmmmmm. Men inspired by the god? "Dude. People wrote it years and years after the events, with quotes and everything, then people without copy machines made copies by hand and translated it. If brother Alfonso told you his writings with quotes from hundreds of years ago were truth and contained facts because god told him, would you believe him? With what authority?" And I sat there. Blink blink. Hmmm. That makes sense. And here I am today.

You see... as a devoted Christian, I wasn't allowed to ask these questions. I'd go to hell for doubting. I wasn't allowed to think outside the box I was born into. Once I stopped having a "relationship" with the evil god, and I basically broke up with him, I didn't care if I angered him, so it was ok to ask. I can't tell you about the feelings I had the first times I risked my eternal life by allowing myself to ask. The risk! The boldness! The gut! Yeah, this will get me killed... but fuck it! My brain was like a loop... and suddenly I was stepping out of the loop and it felt amazing! Whoa! What's in that door?! Islam! Let me check it out. What's in that door? Satanism! What's in there? Porn! Lol! I was running around in my mind asking, curiously searching, opening doors in my head I never dared to even look at. Just thinking was a risk! It was a daredevil thing to do. I was exploring thought and reason. It was all new and unexplored. The moment of clarity came when I was driving home one day and I said my last prayer ever. I knew it was the last. I knew it was words to the wind. I was free. Alone and shaken... like discovering your parents were just imaginary friends and you grew up in psych ward. Kind of like... wait. The god was here just a second ago and poof! Gone. I didn't get to say goodbye. Confusing as fuck. But damn. Thinking felt extraordinary. It was right. It was liberating.

I had to stop loving the imaginary character to be bold enough to disobey him by allowing myself to doubt. So, good that the god character was such a bully. I hate bullies. Let me just add... I don't hate the god. I don't believe he exists anymore, but if it were proven that he does exists in any shape or form, I'd rather face eternal hell than serve a terrorist like that.

I don't like saying this story, because theist have a field day thinking ah ha! You're mad at god, so you mask it with atheism! Wrong. I was mad at an imaginary creature years ago. Now I know better. I sincerely do not believe there is a god. Any god.
Having said that... thank god I'm atheist