Dear Mr. Dawkins
As I slowly made my way through puberty, the regular questions seemed to be very mundane to me; 'will this haircut make chicks like me?' 'how do i get rid of these spots before the weekend?' etc..
Instead, I found myself worrying about my immortal soul (strange for a kid who has never been forcibly indoctrinated at all). Because of this, I began believing in a real God, one who loves and cares about me, looks out for me and certainly gives a damn if I do something as bad as think impurely about a woman…
After several years, I realised my reverence was merely ignorant fear, I was not well-versed in the subject of life, the universe and everything, so I took the easy road, said to myself that there is a God, and spent my time worrying and increasing my chances of stress-related explosive diarrhea.
But still, there must be a God? How can there NOT be a God?
Luckily at that time, a close friend of mine had The God Delusion on his shelf, I recognised your name from a documentary I had watched (albeit, at the time, I dismissed it as a stuffy old man getting angry at God), and promptly read it cover to cover.
Ahhh, the weight off of my shoulders, there is no need to worry. This world is working by itself, maybe now I can get on with my life.
There is no God.
But I am certain that we are here.
It should be obvious what we should be worrying about.
Thank you Richard, you're the man.
– Adam James