Monday, September 28, 2015

Why I Left Religion

It was killing all of my life and joy.

If you want my reason in a little nutshell, that's it.

Beyond that simple statement, I could talk all day in an abstract form about my whys. Letting go of the chains that tied me down for so long is something my brain is still reeling from, and thus I still cannot perfectly articulate in the way I would like best all the reasons that stand. Maybe someday I'll be able to take a deep breath and move past the mayhem completely, but for now, everything is still fuzzy. So I'll try to keep this simple and to the point.

I grew up in a religious family. As people who have grown up in strongly religious families would be able to relate, I was taught that this is the right way and the only right way so live this way because it's the right way. And that was all fine and great, until it wasn't.

Too many questions were left unanswered, and forbidden to be asked for too long. Eventually I started having an on and off relationship with my faith. Sometimes it was fine, sometimes it was not. Soon enough, it was not fine more often then it was fine. This was right around the time when I was supposed to decide what I wanted to be when I grew up, because hello college is right around the corner and everyone and their grandma is asking you where you'll be going to school. So I chose Bible school. It was a last resort to convince myself that everything I had been brought up in and had been learning my entire life was worth hanging on to, even though it pointed against integral parts of my inherent nature. Just one last chance.

I loved every minute I spent there. And contrary to what one would think, by the end, I had truly taken the first step to leaving. That in and of itself is another conversation entirely, and if you're curious and catch me at a good time I might tell you about it.

A few years later, all was said and done. I was finished. No more. I was done with everything. I didn't like the person religion wanted me to be, I didn't like the association with the title, I was ashamed of so many representing the title and I was tired of fighting my nature. Little by little, over the years, I had been dropping out parts, til one day, I realized I was living a lie. I decided I did not want to be miserable anymore. So I left, and started fresh. Ever since then, I've been happier, healthier, and in a much better place.

I don't hate religion, I just found out it wasn't for me. It's been a very hard lesson for me to learn how to cut out things in my life that are effecting me negatively, but thankfully I learned before I tanked completely.

Religion has taught me a lot of things; some I never want in my life again, and some I'll always have with me. That's why I got agape inked onto my skin. In spite of everything, religion, specifically Jesus' philosophy, taught me the importance of unconditional love. The kind that's patient, kind, good, gentle, and selfless. That's a philosophy I want to carry around with me forever.

However, I am done with religion. Not from a lack of knowledge, but simply because it was no longer improving my life. Since writing is my way of processing, and so many still think I'm a person who no longer is, it didn't seem right to keep silent anymore.

Just my two cents.

Part 1

The poem (this one) I posted before this one is actually a response to this one. The subject of this piece probably has no idea they are the subject, but the subject of the response knew exactly what was going on. That's why I had to write the second part.

These two people are soulmates. This fascinates me. They will forever be a part of each other, but they should probably not ever be together ever again. It's just one of those things that will always be, but mustn't be. It's a beautifully tragic thing.

So for your reading pleasure, here is the first.

Monday, June 22, 2015

Could've Been

In a span of about 15 minutes and a few prompts, I wrote a piece to tell the story of a struggle that is not my own.

It started out with my showing her a different piece I had written which brought out a rather intense reaction from her. It was to be expected. That piece was the voice who is the subject of the piece below. So I asked her if she wanted me to write something for her, and she gave a slight objection, insisting that it'd be a pathetic and sad story. I knew it'd be sad, but pathetic? Nah. So I asked for two emotions, and as she spoke, I wrote. The result is what we have below.

When I sent it back to her the emotional response I got indicated that it was a success. 

That's what art should do, I think. It should rip you up, tear you down, drag out every bit of color you've been hiding away and translate itself in a way you've been feeling and expressing all along, even if it's created by someone else. 

I think it's odd sometimes that the things I write are rarely happy and lighthearted, yet somehow, in a way, once the words become the darkness the inspiration has been carrying, they themselves are left void of the weight.

I guess that's why art can be great therapy.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

An Issue in Time

I haven't created anything in awhile as life caught up and sucked all the creative energy out of me, but thankfully it still comes back in quick little hellos. This little piece was inspired by recent events, and it's a reminder I've had to tell myself and occasionally others recently.

Invest your time wisely, friends, be it in people or activities. Time comes in invaluable prices and very limited quantities. You have less than you may think.

Take it from my character: invest your time wisely.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Repost: People Forget

Today has been one of those days. Those days when you're ready for it to be over and done but you know that it can't just yet because everything important in life is happening and you need to keep up - or else. I had to take a short break from everything to find something that would reset my brain and came looking for this piece. Right now, it's oddly comforting.

I hope it impacts you positively as well.

People Forget

You know, it’s funny how we forget.
How when the mind looks back, all it wants to see is what was good.
People always say remember the good old days
But in reality, there never were any good old days.
We just remember what was good.
We forget that the past had just as much poison as our present
And let our hearts be the filter as the mind sifts away all that was wrong,
Because history is all the proof that we need to see
There has never been such a thing as “the good old days”.
People fight and covet, steal and murder
They make big mistakes, and then they make even bigger mistakes
They enjoy times of good peace in the midst of such stress.
Is that really any different from our world of today?

It’s just unfathomable, yet completely comprehensible, how we forget.
We forget the worst of the past in the midst of the worst of the present
We forget that the past had horrible things too
Because all we see is the discontent we are in at the moment.
But sometimes in that moment we do remember the worst of the past
And all at once our worlds can come crashing down because suddenly we realize
We built fake worlds of Past and Present, and in one step we found the flaw
So now they come crashing down.
You know, the mind has this filter
People are obsessed with pleasure.
It wants to remember what was good
Because deep down
We all have wished that only the good was reality.
In the quicksand of time
The forward march of seconds,
Our memories wind down
Our heartbeats slow
The mind forgets
All but a few.
We remember the good days
Because they were good days.
But I think that’s just a little sad.
How could we even fully know what is good
If bad never existed to show us?

It’s strange how people forget.
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