The Confessional of a Midwest Loser

Some thoughts on myself

Entry #1:

I wanted to write this confessional piece about how I felt about Christianity because I can never escape it; I grew up with it.

I never questioned why I believed; I just was.

Entry #2:

I never questioned my faith, or my parents.

I never did.

I did what I was told, because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Looking at my mom from the corner, telling me to wait until dad comes home to punish me.

Entry #3:

I went to church every Sunday as a kid and, in the car, looked at the sky and didn’t want Jesus Christ to return to Earth; because I liked living here; my home was here, not heaven.

A Sunday school teacher in the hallway said, “You’re not going to Hell because you believe," like it was the most natural thing ever.

It only confused me, and I shuffled away after he said it.

I was only a kid, and I took that to be a good kid, one that could never disappoint adults.

Maybe my early faith was fueled by fear of Hell.

Fear of going to Hell.

Entry #4:

I remember drawing a picture of Hell when I was in middle school. I didn’t want to go there. The picture was in pencil and smudgy; faceless demons that I labeled liars.

Entry #5:

I couldn’t think outside of Christianity; I put myself in a box on how to act. I couldn’t do this or that because that’s not how a Christian would act.

I wanted to change everything about myself, to be someone else. To be something else.

I wanted to be someone else because I hated myself.

With every place I went to, I thought people were looking at me and staring. I could hear their spiteful voices in my head mocking me. Their eyes looked through me like I was just a zoo exhibit.

I hated how I looked, how my body moved. I hated everything. This self-hatred started in high school. I wanted to be someone better.

Entry #6:

I couldn't accept my disability as a part of me, because it wasn't "normal."

Normal was everyone but me. Normal was everyone who doesn’t get stuck in the bed sheets. Normal was everyone that doesn’t need to be carried up the stairs.

I wanted to be something else because this thing ‘was wrong’ with my body, and I didn’t see my friends had anything wrong with theirs. I didn’t know how to feel; was I angry or sad?

All I know is I didn’t want to be me back then, and it took me a long time to love me for me.

Entry #7:

I put myself in a box and I didn’t want to get out for a long time because that was all I could see for myself; self-hatred.

The person I was did what they were told. but I didn't care. I just wanted to be loved.

This image of myself, I wanted to be like my dad, but when I thought about it, that wasn’t me; that was just a childhood fantasy because I’m nothing like him, and I don’t want to be.

Still, I love him.

Entry #8:

This Christian image of myself, I couldn’t think outside the world of straightness because I think I was in love with one of my best friends in high school.

He was funny and into art, just different from the other boys in high school.

The thought "if you were a girl, I would date you,“ echoed inside my head.

He would be mean sometimes, but I wanted him to think I was cool. He was my inspiration in high school.

He also brought out the worst in me.

I could never tell him, because I wouldn’t realize until later that it was something more.

Entry #9:

I was also drawn to another guy. I always wanted to touch him and play it off as a joke. To lie on his chest.

As a kid, I got jealous when other boys picked my brothers over me.

I remember this one time I was watching Kick-Ass 2, and I vividly remember seeing the scene when some shirtless guys came onto the screen; the camera zoomed on them dancing. I started to sweat and panic; I was hot with desire.

I panicked, and I was confused within that moment.

What were these thoughts? These new feelings? In 2017, at college, I realize that I was bisexual.

Entry #10:

I wanted to organize my thoughts, to confront my past and my art.

With art, I like using it to critique myself on how I acted and how I put myself in this box. How I couldn’t do anything past the expectations I thought for myself.

Entry #11:

Now I see Christianity, more so the far-right Christianity, as harmful to society because people weaponize it, to say things like, “I’m a good person, but I think gay people should just not be gay because it’s not in the Bible.”

That's why I don't like Christianity; I turned to Satanism for freedom.

I wanted to be free from my past self, I wanted to have permission to be myself.

Entry #12:

I use Christian symbolism in my art because it’s horror. I try to convey what I felt when I put myself in that box; but also, the rituals of Christianity.

With communion, you’re supposed to drink the blood of Christ, and break his body. But when I was in Sunday school one day, I thought the Resurrection of Jesus Christ was the first zombie story.

Because to me, Christianity meant death, with funerals and how we glorify Jesus’ dead body with his death. This was true when I was at my grandma’s funeral, and a family friend said, “You should be happy she’s with Jesus now.”

I wanted to cry; how could I be happy? I lost my grandma.

Entry #13:

I was agnostic in 2019. I began to wonder why I held onto these beliefs, for so long.

I really started to questioned when I left home for college in 2016, I explored my identity outside my family,

I started to think more critically about my relationship with Christianity and how I felt about it because of the art I consumed and of the far-right.

I listened to black metal in late 2022, because it made me realize my relationship with Christianity will always be in my life.

I questioned my faith because I wanted to be not afraid to express myself freely, to be my own person. After hating my face in the mirror for so long, I can say I’m okay.