Book 1 — September 12, 2010 7:14 PM

Well, the voices have started coming back. (Oh, wait. That was a joke. Seriously kidding.) But, I do feel as if I have an epic battle with two different personalities within me. There’s the current and present me and the old me, the one that lived in North Carolina. I was struck again in my head by both sides and their ideologies again today by reading the paper’s editorial pages of the Idaho Statesman from Boise, Idaho. In it, it talks about how self-serving American “Christianity” is, which to me is one (of many) reasons why I left. It just reflects culture, it doesn’t try to change it. It’s too fucking comfortable in its own skin afraid of change or scaring off members. So disheartening. I was tearing up, almost crying. I, as a former churchgoer, would love to do something, but that would have me going backwards, to me. See, I enjoy being who I am now. At the moment, I am terribly liberal, foul-mouthed (to a point), and enjoy the world. In the past, I was the EXACT OPPOSITE. I hate and yet miss that old me a lot. It was a lot simpler when I did not ask questions. But, me being me, asked and learned how much of this is made up, or just assumed fact. So much of it is. And that is where the sadness comes from. I want people to see the futility and the folly it is to take things so literally in their faith to the point of conservatism and fundamentalism where they will flatly refuse anything otherwise. LIFE IS TOO SHORT. Stop worrying about things that don’t matter. Also, I got caught up in worrying about what to do next and read an article about “volunteerism”. Lame? Bad use of funds? I’d love to help, but to me, it’s a little self-serving. I hate that. I’d rather have no one know. I really do not believe in quid pro quo. I know that’s how society functions, but I’d rather live my life by giving it away. Now, I know that people do such a thing without expecting something in return, but usually these are taken advantage of, like myself. I want to help. I just [don’t] know how or what to do. Hopefully, by the time I’m 30, I’ll know. Until then…

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