I don't remember God treading paths of Anger. When I spoke to Him, He called me by my name. And I loved Him for that. He held my hand as we walked into Oblivion. Said He'd let me go to Hell if that was really my wish, to repent if I had any sins. I remembered for the first time that in all my life I was never offered such a choice, such generosity.And I loved Him for that. I wasn't any happier living with His other children, they mocked and beat me because I talked to God. So one day, after school was done, I pulled the trigger. The saddest part was watching Him cry. Told me it was alright because it was my choice, that He'd try to make me happier in this place, that He apologized for what his children did to me. How could I not accept such an apology from the Holy Father? I denied him, and He accepted it. Said everything was alright; told me stories of how He once wore that crown of thorns, how He was once one amongst us. But was crucified and killed by His own children. He told me that after they were done drinking the blood from His draining body, they began to write and compose stories about Him. And how soon different works and accounts of fiction were gathered into one volume and spread across the land. Surprised that every culture warped His image, and that they made Him seem a savage. But love would be the flow to which the bends in light would straighten and solidify and allow me to hold His grace, solid in my hands. God was in my hands, and in essence since we were all created in His image, I enjoyed divinity. Was a really good guy though, never dug the idea of sacrificing lambs and relishing their blood. Says He doesn't understand how His children went out of control with his biography.