church.

surprisingly, christianity has been a staple in my life. it was once the steak that anchored my psyche and now it is the splinter which has been healed over and mostly forgotten.

i didn't learn anything significant from the religion, despite my regular attendance throughout childhood. it's actually endowed me with a sense of profound and perennial questioning and a feeling that i will Never be sure of myself. but even that i cannot to christianity attribute in full. there's plenty of blame to pass around and plenty of hats tipped for collection.


but just today it occurred to me that some of my worst experiences with humanity were linked in some way to church. one specific memory was of a sort of summer jesus camp in which the youth group at my church would go to a "retreat" for about a week or two and basically engage in activities somehow related to god (charades? story to come). I can't say that it didn't build character but for me it wasn't in the most conformist manner. First and probably most significant was the booklets. each participant in the camp had a booklet, probably stapled during the week prior by our youth leaders over ramen and 7up. they were laid out on a table the last couple days of camp as to allow everyone to sign their messages of hope and christiandom. My brother had attended and as always his booklet was full of thoughtful, admiring messages. I can't remember if I had read my booklet or if i had just brushed this next fact off: it was completely empty. now i admit that i've never been the most approachable or affable sort, especially when i was 13 and lived in the navy blue oversized sweater that i wore to basketball practice. but i would have figured someone, maybe a youth leader or my pastor, would have signed my booklet. no one did. what was even more horrifying to me was that it was discovered by a couple of other girls, one of which expressed just how sad it was that no one had signed it. i think i would have been more satisfied if the booklet had been returned to me completely empty, because i'd have proof of just how much of a loner and how little effort they had put in to include me. unfortunately i wasn't spared this one little bit of self-righteousness and was instead burdened with the fact that those girls must have spread the word of my utter forgottenness. I realize now that her intentions were admirable and she was probably the first person to voluntarily sign my booklet. but this is my foremost memory of christians.

now for the charades. each attendee was put into a group and each group was sent outside while the rest of the believers stayed inside to think of an idea which the preceding member who was sent inside would have to relay to the next without verbal communication. when i went in all i saw was a guy running from side to side with his hands in the air, so i assumed that it was him trying to be a ballerina, and i was subjected to the humiliation of trying to imitate a ballerina in front of my peers (i'm.. not graceful). fine, humiliation is my forte. but it turns out that the "idea" that they had come up with was homosexuals. Yes. HOMOSEXUALS. he had actually been holding his hands in the shape of a triangle (but not an upside down one??). i will always think that this had to be the strangest and most ignorant game of charades i have ever experienced. i'm not sure if they were trying to broach the subject of homosexuality or were just being "funny"; i've never really understood.

so.. as usual i've brooded over this and many other events that led to my eventual stark rebellion against church attendance in middle school. (this i have to thank basketball for, unfortunately even that escape was stolen away by yet another group of girls i couldn't find my place in) to this day i still want to approach the children and parents of these children and really find out what they were thinking. a bit of me wants to admonish them and another part of me wants to just inquire. this fantasy is a reoccuring one ranging from ages 4-present. from strangers to best friends.


and so.. i am in a perpetual state of questioning: why do people dislike/disown me? what is it that makes me so unmistakably, universally unlikable? are people really this cruel and self-centered/self-righteous/better that they have a right to this treatment?


basically my self-esteem is shot and even more so i can't help but think that the majority rules and they're right.. i'm even afraid to go to a therapist because i figure they'll probably completely despise me but professionally they can't say that to my face unless I'm a danger to society.



oh cruel cruel world!!!


i feel like i'm thirteen again except this time i have easy access to razor blades. there really is something enchanting about that method of suicide. but... it's just another fantasy, so i know it can never be as good as i think it is.

sometimes...

i wish he had just fucked someone else and then there wouldn't be this lingering question mark.. peeping through doorways and hovering in the clouds... or whatever.


it shouldn't matter.

why it will never work.

he doesn't care about anyone else but himself. he puts on a front like he does, but as they say, actions speak louder than words.



he will never be the guy who calls me just because he was thinking about me, or cook me dinner if i've had a bad day.


he will always be the guy who cheated on me, and was thoughtless in every way possible.





it's nothing romantic. it's how you treat a friend or a relative because you care for them, or dare i say love them??





it hurts. and i'll have to get over this all over again because i was too stupid to realize this 2 years ago.

i am..

a recluse.


i am trying to prove just how little i matter. perhaps eventually i won't matter at all. i'll disappear, evaporate, disintegrate.. i will be anti-matter, a void.


deep gravitational pull inwards. make sure not to get too close.

i just...

don't care anymore.

i'm done. for reallys..

i wish there was a nice transition to me living in an apartment in some city elsewhere.. a peaceful ambiance illuminates the scene.

but the fact of the matter is that i still love him. i can't even relish in the fact that he was an asshole because i love him in spite of all that happened. it's a strange mix of hope and masochism.

i'll never be my mother, but that doesn't change the rest of the cast.

i don't...

know what to think right now.. or whether to think at all.

the more i hang out with him the more i remember why i really fell for him in the first place.

or am i just becoming increasingly stupid about this whole situation...

i'm guessing it doesn't really matter.. i can't help how i feel. it just comes down to him.. yet again.



all i can do is wait..