God Is A Child and The World, A Sandbox

It's unclear, how much time has passed. He's been sitting there for what feels like forever. 

It's strange, he thought. For he has spent seven years, five months, and thirteen days in this suffocating, dingy room. Yet these few hours seem like they take up at least half of those seven years. 

He has come to terms with everything a long time ago. Approximately four years and three months back. It's when he finally put down the book of creation, that he's found his place in the world, and ultimately agreed that the reason to his demise is justified. 

'For those who question how the world works shall find unrest, and those who come to terms with it shall find peace, as so with God.' 

The door that has kept him away from the world unlocked, a figure clad in black stepping in the way of exit.  

"Hello," he greeted.  

"Is that the book of creation?"  
"Yes." He didn't realize how strongly he clutched onto the book. 

"It's wonderful, isn't it?"  
"It indeed is."  The corners of his eyes wrinkled.  
"...it would seem like you didn't even really need me to be here.." he chuckled.  
"Please... do the honors, father."  

"Child, have you found your place with God?"  
"I have."  
"Then worry not... for He has forgiven you."  

He would like to believe, that if there was a God, he would be kind. He would understand how flawed he is. And He would be the one to be able to feel how truly deep his regret is.  

'For He sees and knows all.' 

"Lucem, my God, have mercy on me."