I had to suffer with her. She dragged me to that church, and now I was forced to sit with her and all of those other unhealthy people. My hate for church is growing..
To explain the best way i can, Leslie has been one of my best friends for a little less than a year. I moved to a small, forsaken town in Texas at the end of the glorious summer. I stepped out of a shamble of a life and into a more complete one. When I say this, I mean leaving the abbusive boyfriend and getting the hell out of town. I met Leslie and Lisa on the third day of my new beginning. I became fast friends with the two of them, and we soon were a threesome. I spent most of the time with Leslie or Lisa. It happened one day, that Leslie wanted me to go with her to her church. It was an almost out of the question idea:
Me, a Wiccan foe two years, going back to something i hated?
I found that to be a big deal for me, as I had refused to attend church for almost ten years of my life. When she begged me in her cute little way, I found myself fighting in my head as whether or not I should go. I couldn’t believe that i was actually thinking about going. I mean, I had avoided church for the plain and simple fact that church had hurt me before. I remember being confused when i was little at the loud people screaming, waving, and falling flat to the floor over their “invisible friend”. They would say things that most children wouldn’t understand at my age, and continue to tell me that “he” was real. At the age of six, I chose that I would no longer go to the “loud people’s” meetings. My parents chose that they would not attend either. We grew wild from the once repetive shackles of church.After a good four or five years, my parents dragged us back, for they thought me too wild and “without a sense of judgement that the Lord could provide.” Once again, I sat at church, but this time, actually understanding what they were saying. I noticed that it didn’t all add up; the stories of Jesus, and no dinosaurs, and these people they called Adam and Eve. I asked my parents, still being the innocent type, why these things made no sense. They snapped back at me for not believing in God and questioning what I didn’t know. I came to sort that there was no God because there was no proof of his exsistance. I had people, and still have people, try to tell me that there was… if I only would come with them to church…
My history with churches is short and concise; I went for six years, and never again. Leslie’s innocent begging bit into my head and caught me at the times when I was using my free time on other little things. She would ask me, “why don’t you come with me Sunday? We could go and have fun there, you’ll see!” I actually found myslef believing her, or that maybe I wanted to believe her. I made the mistake of listening to her and going. It was terrible; people singing morbid songs on how Jesus would save you with his blood. I thought for the longest time afterwards that killing for something or someone you can’t see was an unfathomable idea.
What sick people would kill a crazy person for saying something stupid?
I told her that church made me unhappy, and that I felt alone when I had to go with her to the event. She did something that most people can’t do to me; she made me back down and go awayways…
She had me right in the palm of her hand.
I spent the next three months going with her to church. I did it because I thought that she was important to me, and that it would give me something to do on Wednesdays and Sundays. It was a constant pain, sitting and having to listen to an idiot who couldn’t tie his own shoes talk on and preach about someone he’d never met.
I feel that to believe in something, you should see it or feel it. I felt and saw nothing.
The trouble ended when poor little innocent Leslie was caught with a handfull of pills by the school, and was wisked away to boot camp. I have been safe from falling back into their clutches… for the time being.
I got a call from Leslie the other day; she was doing as well as to be expected at her daily hell hole. She told me that she would be returning to normal school soon, as well as her normal life. This means a threat to me; I’ll be forced to attend church with her once more. I feel that I need to join her in her daily things, but I can’t bring myself down to going back to doing one of the only things that I can spend time with her. Church has been apart of her life ever since she was born. She can’t turn her back on her church; yet she doesn’t feel happy there.
I try and show her that I care about what she does, but nothing seems to work. I am stuck at an impass. Church, or no church? Things never seem to fall the way I think they should…