[ WP ] I once remembered that I was God , but then I forgot again as quickly as I could .

Can God make a rock so big He ca n't move it? 
 
 First, I'm a woman, thanks, and second, yes. But then I get to the gym, drink a few protein shakes, and rack up the gainz until I can move it. Thanks Ryan North, one of my funnier creations. God I hate that question. 
 
 There's not a ton I can do about it though. See, you watch Bruce Almighty or read some of the crazy shit in the Old Testament and think you know how I work. It's just a big joy ride, I do what I want: kill some dude for steadying my glorified hope chest ( yeah not finding a man at this point sorry to all grandmothers ever ), make my dog use the toilet, eksetera eksetera. 
 
'Cause I'm the embodiment of perfection. Everything I do has to be done to the nines, each eksquizit drop squeezed out of the eternity of moments I've lived. Does n't give you a lot of options. I got some - I can mispell words, you've probably already noticed, thank ME spelling is just a human construct and not a integral, unchangable law of the universe - but for the most part there are only certain jobs I can work, certain places I can live, clothes I can wear. Obviously baby sealskin is out but stuff that's sourced unsustainably, or takes advantage of sweatshop labor, or even just exploits certain little cracks in capitalism is out of the picture. I spend a lot of time making my own stuff. Good thing I'm damn proficient at it. Perfect, even. 
 
 I work a few jobs to pay the bills. Barista at a place with decent owners, homeless shelter, and dog-walker. Enough to be comfortable, and if I need to let loose, well, there's a lot of water around that just needs a little push to turn into happy juice, eh? Sometimes I invite Larry over -- he's just gone through a nasty divorce, could use a friend. Says he's not looking for anything romantic, is looking for something romantic, but hey, what's a little mercy from an omnipotent being now and then? 
 
'Cause I do n't got too much of that to go around. See, there are rules about things. Complicated rules, and they got to be followed. It's in the job description. Someone turns around at the wrong time, you're not going to need to buy table salt for a few years. It's how the game works. 
 
 And I know that you think it's a rigged game, that I'm up in the clouds pissing on you half the time. But it's not. That time you got shoved in a locker? Well, there just so happened to be a finely-tuned balance of suffering you'd caused in your life, and due to your excess resource consumption and that cat you thought it'd be fun to throw rocks at ( you threw too hard and that cat wound up dying from infection. Bet you did n't think about that, asshole ) and the time you told your mother you did n't love her when she'd had one of her hardest days at work - well, if Greg from Spanish had n't come and pushed you into a locker, I migth have had to do it myself. 
 
 It works for everything - Larry had a bad divorce, but Larry has never picked up after his dog, not once, and he only tells his daughters he loves them when they're sleeping and ca n't hear. Guy's shit at his job too and wo n't do anything to get better. New Orleans? Sodom and Gomoraw? Fookooshima? They all deserved it. Obviously not for the reasons you think they might have ( you're going to have a bird shit on your tomorrow morning, just for thinking that ) but for the avalanche of maliss that you humans pour over yourselves every day. 
 
 I'm so tired of it. So tired of you screwing up and having to thump you down just because THAT'S. HOW. IT. WORKS. You know what's worse than seeing the rotting garbage that this world is filled with? Knowing that it's deserved, and that you could help these people if they just would live differently, and they wo n't. 
 
 I can make a rock that big but I ca n't change that. 
 
 So it's time to test out my omnishience, omnipotents, whatever those words are. I'm just done with it and doing all these bad things to worse people. I cry myself to sleep every night because of you. Did you know that? I do and I'm tired of it. 
 
 Time to go. Time to leave it all and forget and be that person working three jobs and fending off Larry's awkward advances and giving him a few pats on the back on the bad days. Time to stop with being judge, jury, and excutioner with no sick days, to not be God, to just be me. 
 
 The question they really should have asked is, `` Can God make herself forget that she's God?'' 
 
'Cause we're about to find out the answer right now.
