Mom, I read your diary.

Don't worry, nothing I didn't already know. You're tired, you're scared,

You don't

want to

go to

church.

I would've found out eventually. Other people like to tell me things.

All the things you don't.

Like my

Like how you've been divorced.

Like how I shouldn't come out to my aunt and uncle because they're homophobic. Oh, right, back to church.

Because here's something important: I DON'T WANT TO GO EITHER. You know that. I had to scream at you for months, fake being sick every Sunday for years, shove down my panic attacks when we walked into the chapel, but finally you figured that the fuck out.

And you didn't let me stay home until month after I told you that, a month of you dragging me to our STUPID church for another USELESS sermon that you think for some reason is more important then my mental health well

IT'S

NOT.

Shut up and stop crying when I say I don't want to be a christian. I went to church on christmas because I didn't want you to scream---not because I've found god again.

To be honest, I don't think I ever found him in the first place.

This isn't a phase I'm going through because I'm a flighty teenager, and if you can preach tolerance of other religions or lack thereof, you can practice it and leave me the FUCK ALONE for wanting to reconsider my beliefs. I'm never been so at peace with my spirituality and if you want to fuck that up then go ahead because I'm done letting you run my mind. You can take me to church on easter or all year for that matter but it won't make a difference, it won't do anything, give up.

I know you don't want to go to church, mom. I don't know why you won't speak up for me when dad tells me how much it hurts him to have me stay at home for two hours a day. I don't know why you refuse to have a conversation about this without inviting him because you're the only one I can talk to about it. And I really wish you'd say something but you Won't so i'll just ignore you. Enjoy church mom, because if you won't stick up for me then I won't help you when you inevitably decide you can't lie anymore and tell dad he has to go to church alone.

Well, not alone, since my brother loves church. Forget finding your own spiritual understanding, let's just drag the third grader to church and see if he turns out okay. In fact, let's drill god into his head so well that when he starts to question why he's the only kid in his house to pray at dinnertime, he'll try and convert his sister!

Sorry, that's just speculation. Like the fantasy you have about me returning to church, this whole ordeal a momentary lapse in a long, god-fearing life.

Fuck that. I'm angry, I'm done, you won't tell me anything but I don't fucking care. Enjoy your sunday, I'm going to plan for a future after I move out and don't have to listen to you say, "That woman has a son. You would like him, since he doesn't want to go to church either."

I'm not the golden child, mom. My older brother already took that from me. I don't know what you were expecting, but clearly it wasn't this. I'm going to take the bible you put in my room and chuck it out the window, if you don't mind.

Have a good night. You should probably write more things in your diary that you don't feel like telling me or ever addressing in your life. In the mean time, I'll publish a post that I don't feel like addressing with you any time in the next decade, because like mother like daughter, right?

I think the apple jumped out of the tree.