You know, it might have taken me fifty something odd years to realize it, but I can't help but feel that I've always had a certain sort of jealousy towards people with a religion or faith. I mean, sure, as a youth I'd scoffed at the idea of people asking for help from something that I'd never seen any proof of existing.
-It's hard, it's hard-
God, The Father, Holy Spirit, Beloved Mother; whatever you called it, I hadn't wanted to be a part of it. I had science, I had logic. I had the proven fact of Equivalent Exchange on my side. Anything outside of the factual had seemed somewhat fantastical to me. Even when Dante and Hohenhiem had all but shoved the facts into my face that, no, your input didn't always give you an equal output, I had still believed in it. Which, looking back now, seems ironically similar to what some of the more zealous members of religious factions did when I tried to disprove their own beliefs. Oh course, that irony was lost to me back then.
-It's hard, it's harder-
I had always been so assured in what I thought had been undoubtedly proven ever time I drew a circle or slapped my hands together. So assured that I even applied the idea to my daily life. If I try my hardest, I will be rewarded. If anyone just gives it their all, they were bound to see results.
-Than it's ever been before-
Now, I don't want to be that pessimistic old man that sits in a corner and just spews angst ridden monologues to people who hardly even listen. But I'd seen too much of both worlds on either sides of the Gate to really believe in equivalent exchange anymore. Not like I use to.
-Things that used to comfort me-
And that's why I can't help but realize that maybe, just maybe, I've been a little bit jealous of those with a god to call their own for a long while now. You could try again and again to prove that someone's religion didn't make any logical sense. But in all honesty, half the time the evidence used to try and deny a god's existence was more then ninety-five percent speculation.
-Don't comfort me anymore-
My beliefs, the closest thing I'd ever had to believing in a deity or any sort, could be shot through with the logic I had always relied on. Did hard workers always get rewarded? I'd seen too many good men and women get the figurative short end of a stick for this to ring true to me anymore. Did those who committed heinous acts always get what was coming to them? I could answer this with a simple 'no'. I needn't dwell on any particulars.
-But you can't spend your whole life-
Did everyone always get out of life what they put into it? Half the time, it seemed to me, people in bad situations were stuck there no matter how hard they tried to change it; and people in good situations hardly ever had to work to stay as such.
-Waiting for God to kiss you-
Year after year I'd watched, had participated in the world, and found that my once ironclad belief in Equivalence had become somewhat torn. The small holes the tiny seeds of logic that Dante and Hohenhiem had left started to changed, to grow. Until, one day, I found that my faith in what I had once thought to be the world's only truth had become something more akin to tattered silk then metal and iron.
-You can't spend your whole life-
It was then I realized I was now without something that had been part of my life since I first picked up an alchemy book. It hurt, at least a little bit, to no longer have that.
-Waiting for God to kiss you-
But then Alphonse calls my name and breaks up my dark musings. I look towards him, and smile. I remember that even when I have nothing else in the world, not even a god to trust in, I've always had faith in my brother. Not many people can claim that to be their truth, right? Even when god and mom and dad and even equivalent exchange itself let me down, there had always been Al. I guess, if I really thought about it, Al was my own sort of religion.
-Can't spend your whole life-
And honestly, now that I think about it, that's more then I'll ever need.
-Waiting for God to kiss you back-
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Well, not sure where this came from, but I hope you like it. The italics are an excerpt from the song Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori by Regina Spektor, just so you all know.