I don’t understand religion, but I appreciate it for what it can be for people. For me, religion is as close as anyone who isn’t ill will get to understanding. I don’t think I can explain mental illness to atheists.
It’s like, knowing. Knowing that there’s something the rest of the world doesn’t share. It’s faith.
Faith doesn’t just go away either. It doesn’t die however much edgy dramas and complex fictions pretend it does. There’s no controlling it; it is controling.
The thing about it that makes me not try explaining it to atheists, is the imperative. An illness, is like faith, like a fire? No, the metaphor is weak, fire lacks a real, sweeping, urgency—anytime you’re far from the flames.
See, there’s folk who got religion, and folks who’s got faith. And they take their wafers and their rites when they get the spirit, and I take my meds when I remember. And we all walk around in the world and we all get along and for the most part only want good things for everyone. And we none of us understand.