Lately as an atheist I find it exceedingly unnecessarily and even counter-intuitive to even speak of atheism, or of religion.

It’s a treacherous path to walk down, like saying out loud “I am not insecure!”, “I regret nothing!”, “I will not fail”, “I will not be sad!”

And then silence. The silence crushes you with its indifference, and all that you are left with is the vastness of insecurity, of regret, of failure, and sadness.

To speak of one’s atheism is to walk down that same treacherous path.

True atheism (to me), I feel, transcends the need to draw attention to itself.

It is secure, not not-insecure.
It is acceptance, not not-regret.
It is joy, not not-sadness.
It is love, not not-hate.

True atheism (names, labels, what does it matter?) isn’t about believing in not-God, it’s about sitting comfortably in the silence.

And when you stop trying to define it, you realise it is neither one way nor the other, and there is only Love.