Sometimes, I feel like I have multiple personality disorder. It's through the writing that these voices scream.
We sit in these rooms and question truth, strive for knowledge, yearn for understanding. We live our simple lives, laughing together, growing up slowly, experiencing what we feel is pain and heartbreak when it comes along. We are beautifully blind. We need to be shocked back to life [clear]. We need to take our first breath and open our eyes and realize the complete paradise we live in. Comfort. Safety. Privilege. I don’t know what to do to reconcile this. It isn’t fair. I don’t want these privileges… but at the same time, I’m terrified that they’ll be stripped away.
I loved how perfect you were, with that one fatal flaw. When your lungs crumpled up, cracking and squeezing your chest into a writhing pit of pain. I can’t watch you then; it makes my heart splinter. I know that I am weak; this is why I cling to you. But when you are breaking, my world is sent spinning. If you, my savior, need saving, what am I to do? I am not strong enough, with this book full of heavy condemnation slung about my neck, and an increasing scream of judgment echoes in my ears. With you, I can hide away from that which tortures my mind. How is this sin? God calls us to love; I love you desperately. Tell the church to fuck itself for saying that love is sin. Hypocrisy is sin too, you bastards. Fuck off.
My ears burn. “Free us from that which binds.” Stop banishing me to Sodom. I can’t fit that mold. Please: you’ve already silenced me. Just let me be. I am so tired of these same words, over and over, these same archaic stories that have no relevance. Why are you allowed to dictate how I live just because you heft this old book? Yet, it breaks me in pieces when I see him walk into that sanctuary, when I watch him stretch his hands in worship, when he stares at me with eyes of such conviction. Don’t look at me like that, like you’re pitying me. Imperfection on display. How do you know me so well? Stop reading my mind; you’ll only be disgusted by what you’ll see. “I will sing to and worship the King who is worthy.” I stand in silence, letting my mind sprint, my eyes stayed on the perfect hair of the bass player. I’ll just stay here, waiting to get what I deserve from our ‘just’ God. Your justice is twisted. “Give me a new heart. Take out this wreckage of stone.” I’m so tired of your words. Your God is so twisted, so selfish and jealous and wrathful. How can you talk about mercy and forgiveness and grace? Ask the Sodomites about God’s love. Talk to the Egyptians about mercy. Genocidal, unforgiving, legalistic bastard.