I was down in London yesterday visiting my grandmother with my parents. It’s a strange year, this year, as all Easters, regardless of one’s denomination, fall on the same date this year, where usually they are slightly out of alignment.

I must admit I have a problem with religion, or rather I did have. I decided, once, that I hated god, if he existed. What god would kill off over3 half my school friends? What god would do such a thing? God I reasoned is a bastard, and all those who believe in him were cretins.

But they aren’t, though. They aren’t morons, just people trying to make sense of everything. The promise of god brings people hope; to them, death isn’t death, but the next step. In other words they believed in god for exactly the same reason that I refused to. Thinking about this on Saturday night I realised these things – why people needed to believe. Then I realised that I needed to too.

It’s against all my logic, all science, but part of me wants them to be right. I want there to be an afterlife; I want rich, Andy, Dave and Andy w to be up there, sipping beer, talking and laughing. (‘oh god no! matt’s putting on another leotard and writing stupid things on his blog. Let’s go watch lee’). What is the alternative? It’s too sad for me to contemplate.

But that sadness would be pointless. Who would you level your anger at? God? but to be angry at god means one believes in him, which means one can also believe in heaven, which means one needn’t be angry at him. Without god, one cannot be angry, or sad; it would render all grief pointless, which is, I find, heartbreaking.

I understand why the church was packed on Saturday night. Belief in god may be illogical, if not downright stupid, but without the hope that stupidity gives us, we’d all go insane. Part of me, I must admit, needs that hope too. It is easier to believe a lie than to believe in oblivion. The old adage holds true: ‘if god didn’t exit, we’d have to invent him.’