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Hell is a White Room With No Windows

when I was twelve I was told that not going

to church every Sunday was a mortal sin

what my grandmother didn’t know (or perhaps did)

was when she told me this, she

in essence, told her own granddaughter - the second

daughter of her first-born, that she would essentially

burn in Hell for not attending church

but I went to Catholic school for eleven years,

I was an altar server for two, I was a Christian

before I could utter a word

and so I started to think rather than pray

for years I lingered on my invented mantra of

God hates me, God hates me

until I realized, until I asked myself

why do I need the approval of (your) God I am not even sure I believe in?

I’m unsure when I started to think like

an agnostic, or a humanist, or an atheist (at times)