Conversations with God

This weekend, there is a play called Conversations with God, a series of mono- and dio-logs people wrote. If I wrote a conversation with God, it would go something like this.
"I don't believe in you. Yeah, I know there is a House discussion about the impossibility of being mad at and not believing in at the same time, and its true. but i don't believe in a personified single infinite power watching people. deism (clockmaker), or a cosmic force, maybe. But God, as such, no. But I am mad at you. There is no one else to be mad at. Myself a bit. The stupidity of people in general.
But seriously, Why? What exactly did I do? Or not do, as the case may be? I do all the things expected of me and many more besides. I try to be nice, to make everyone happy. I try to be honest. Neither of those is an intrinsic trait, but I am really trying to be a good person. Is it really too much to expect one small break somewhere. I want lots of things, could I please have at least one of them? So many of the people I know have all of them. What exactly did I do in a previous life to deserve this? must have been freaking terrible, and I apologize.
I am committed and organized and friendly, and yet 2 fucking votes? Why does no one understand the amount of time and effort I dedicate? What do I have to do for a tiny bit of recognition?
I try to take care of my health, see doctors, follow their instructions, but wait, no, your life is going too well, have a stroke. It fucks up every aspect of my life, physical, emotional and mental; I fight to recover to get better as much as possible, but again, no, here, have some serious depression.
So basically, lets look at all the things I could use for support - Family. Mom, Grandma and Grandpa can't understand the depression or my changed focus. Mom is happy I'm not grand monkey. Mike doesn't care, he loves me but he's useless. D is a jerk, Dad is absent. Friends. Sasha, Adin and Matt are graduating. Jacquie is always busy with church and Uganda, Ashlyn's in France. School. I have tons of work, but I don't care about it, and its really difficult to do because of the stroke. Activities. The Monkeys are obviously not going to support me, I'm at a skill impasse and we have no upcoming shows to focus on. I have no time for art. And thats all there is in my life.
Basically, I keep trying to get up, but I just end up getting kicked over and over.
If i just lie here on the floor for a while, will someone show up to lend a hand, or will the kicker get bored and wander off?
I doubt it, with my luck, I'll just get trampled by a stampede or something.
I really don't think I deserve this, would it really be the end of the world o let me have a boyfriend or some functional neural paths or a body that didn't hurt or coordination or rhythm or the will to stop biting my nails or to lose weight or some self-confidence or could I just be happy with how my life is, appreciate the good stuff and stop dwelling on the bad shit?
Why exactly would that be so hard?
What the fuck should I be doing differently? Or could I at least believe in you enough to think there was a cosmic reason why I should be fucked up in about 15 ways and be so miserable all the time, that it would have some important part in a plan for the world. But I don't, so I'm talking to myself, whining about my problems, which isn't going to solve them.
Seriously, God. One little break, maybe?
I'm running out of energy. I can't keep doing this. I can't drag myself out of bed and face this every day. I don't know what you want from me. I don't know how to be happy. I don't know anything worth knowing, and I certainly don't know how to find out.
I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore."
Sorry about the lengthy rant, I'm just really not in a good place, and I have to do a ton of research now.