May 14, 2000

My mother used to drag me off to church every Sunday. I did everything in my power not to go. From tantrums to fighting, I tried it just to avoid that one damned hour of church.

During those days, she talked a lot of shit on bible thumpers and the hypocritical, ultra-religious types. Little did she know she was one of them.

Me, being (and still am, mind you) at that feisty adolescent time in your life where you always speak your mind, did just that. I called her out on it.

"How can you force me to go to church but complain about other people shoving their beliefs down others' throats? You're a hypocrite."

I'd like to believe we would have skipped a lot of fighting and yelling and crying if I hadn't said that last sentence.

"You're not going to disrespect me that way," she'd say, "now get in the car."

Of course, I'd say no, she'd yell some more, and eventually we'd be haulin' ass towards church so we wouldn't be late (we always were).

The following weeks I asked her that question a lot, and every time she'd avoid it. Talk about something else, ignore me, what have you.

After asking for about the one-hundredth time, she answered.

"You know how I went to a sperm-donor for you and your sister?"

"Yeah."

"I promised God that if I conceived I'd take you to church. I know I didn't for the past eight years of your life, but I'm fixing my promise now."

That shut me up for a little while, but not for long. My family is known for being stubborn, and being a teenager on top of that… you can picture it how I was.

Long story short, I don't go to church anymore. I haven't for a couple months now, actually.

Everyday I wonder if this is real life, or actually hell and I'm unaware of it.

I wonder if my mom made a deal not with god, but with the devil to have me.

But every time I look in the mirror, and I see disheveled hair, red eyes, and blood trickling out the corner of my mouth where life, or hell, has beaten me, I no longer wonder.

My déjà vu tells me I've lived before this, so maybe god really sent me to damnation.

Well, all I've got to say is, if this is hell, I wouldn't change. Even if it meant I'd go to heaven.

I may be bruised, cut, and half dead, but I'm too proud to do that.

So, god, if you're listening…

I may be close to giving up and taking my life, but at least I can say I still haven't ever begged you for forgiveness.

And I don't ever plan to, either.