Whoa boy, is it Sunday, again? It’s like this week went by so slow.
I’m not Christian, I’ll admit it. I don’t go to church, because I gave up on religion when I first tried to commit suicide when I was.. 12 I think? I can’t remember a lot. But since I’m a good little boy, I guess I can ‘offer’ up a little post from home. Just so any stuck-up Christian people that may see this don’t chew me out for ‘not going to church’ and ‘abandoning the “lord”Â ‘.
I was going to type upÂ a religious and suicidal comparison thing. But then I thought of a ‘True Story’ idea. And it goes so well with the song I’m currently addicted to, something from Metric. This story is about church, about the female I was previously with. A blonde autistic child. She was beautiful, gorgeous, but she was as Christian as aÂ nun. The poor child, I swear, she had so much ahead of herself, if she only was a little more free. Anyways, hope you like this religious story.
Sunday morning, a couple years ago. 13 years old, could it be the start of a real teen? I’m up early. My dad’s up too, which is a surprise. He’s currently ironing my good pants, and I’m in a white dress shirt with a black vest.Â I haven’t worn these kind of clothes since the last Sunday I went to church before I tried to rob myself of breath. But it doesn’t matter. My femboyish body is outlined smoothly, and I’m picking breakfast pieces out of my teeth, stuff that brushing didn’t snatch away. There’s a knock on the door. “Domino! They’re here!” My dad yells. I scramble to put on my pants and open the door.
In front of me, is the beautiful girl that asked me to go to church with her the Thursday of last week. She’s a young child, 14 years old. She’s wearing a lovely light pink blouse and black slacks. Her blue rimmed glasses only outline the incredibly, glowing shine of her lightly curved pale skin, and her bright blonde hair only spouts out of her scalp smoothly and dances in twirls down to her elbows. Trying to show off a more professional side to myself, I take her hand and kiss it lightly, a very small peck on the top. Her mother is to the side of her, however I didn’t notice her until she tsked at me. I look up, to find a wide eyed woman at her side. She is much.. ‘larger’ than her daughter. She wears a blouse as well, but it also seems like she has a binder of sorts on her. Brown hair, straight, but lightly curled at the end. Her hair sort of reminds me of Misty’s haircut from HeartGold and SoulSilver.Â ( http://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/File:HeartGold_SoulSilver_Misty.pngÂ ) which already gives me the impression that she is a strict woman. Boy was I not joking.
We’re at the church now, its much different than my old church. Because this one has classes for children. They have an elementary school, a middle school, and a high school souly bent on learning the Christian ways. The teachers there are not very ‘happy go lucky’, and they are as strict as my girl’s mother. I do not mind though. But as ritual for them, the teacher asks me to come up and introduce myself to the other 6 people in the classroom (at the time there were 8 in total, including me and my girl) I go ahead. “My name is Domino Jays. I am 13 years old, and as of today I go back to church. I used to not go for a while.”
“Why did you not go?” The teacher asks. Most of the children aren’t paying attention, but my girl is watching me with a light smile. She knows of my suicidal ways, but she also thinks I do not have such feelings anymore. She’s wrong, but I’d never tell her that.. Anyways, the class then looks at me. I’ve been silent, and the teacher speaks up. “Well, Domino? Why did you not go?”
“.. I will be completely honest, the last time I went was the night I tried to commit suicide. My parents admitted me into a hospital that morning and I never went back until today.” I stood proudly when I spoke of my past experiences. I spoke clear as a bell when I revisited my past. Then I continued. “.. that was when I was about 12 years old. I’ve had time to think over my decisions in the past, and I’ve decided to move on. When I met the lovely lady that I’m with this morning. I’m here to be with her, simply put.”
The class and the teacher looked at me like I was unreal. As if suicide wasn’t a part of their vocabulary, and if suicide wasn’t a part of their vocabulary, then I wasn’t supposed to live. The teacher then sighed, “Well.. That’s a good thing you decided on going on the path of the Lord.” The path of the lord.. Seriously? I need to thank my parents for stopping me from commiting suicide? And putting me on the path of the lord? I wasn’t buying this, but I decided to stay ‘stable’. “Thank you, ma’m.”
After the class, I pull my girl away for a moment. She knows that the teacher’s comment made me uneasy, and nervous. “A-Are you sure you can do this, Domino?” She asks me. I nod nervously, but she doesn’t buy it. “C’mon Domino, you can go home now, if you want to. Call your dad, I won’t mind.” I shake my head. “No, mi amor. I told you I’d stay here, and I won’t leave just because I can’t take a little comment about my past. That part of me is over.” She buys this and nods, taking my hand and downstairs. “Okay. Come on. The sermon’s about to begin, Domino!”
“Friends, today is the day we welcome a young woman into the land of the lord!” The priest ( I think that’s his name) would yell to the rest of the court. The sermon had begun a couple minute ago, and he was reading weekly announcments. It’s apparently a normal thing. Me and my woman sit in the front, and he’s holding onto my hand while it’s in her lap. She’s smiling brightly. “A young woman indeed! Young [insert my girl’s name here], has decided to join us all in the world of the Lord!” .. What. There’s cheering, and I look over at her. I whisper, ” Mi amor, you’re serious?.. Since when!?”Â “I’ve thought about it for a while. But think about it, this way you’re closer to the Lord as well, having me as a direct contact.” She spoke quietly. The priest/thing brought her up and asked her if she would really want to do this. She nods,” Yes I would. For Domino to become closer to our Lord, sir.” And she smiles at me. And the priest takes her in the back.
Soon she comes out. It’s been about 10 minutes, and the whole court was too glued on the dunking on my girl in the ‘holy’ water to care that there was someone missing. The sermon was mostly her being dunked, and when she’s out, she goes to find me. Nowhere in sight. In my seat is a note.
“Dear [insert girl’s name here],
For the past couple years, I’ve beenÂ searching for aÂ partner who will not force their religion onto me. Who will not use my story of depression to get me closer toÂ their ‘lord’. EverÂ since the attempted suicide, I’ve lostÂ my will to believe anything anymore. I can only go on, as people in your religion would call, as a ‘sinner’. a Fool, blindfolded,Â covered from the light. Lost in the Shadows. I thought you would be the one, the one whoÂ would accept the fact I was and still am suicidal. AndÂ thought you would never push your religion onto me. But the fact you’re being dunked into a tub of water for me to beÂ closer toÂ your ‘lord’ makes absolutely noÂ sense to me, and IÂ rather dieÂ at the hand of my own demise than be closer to a fakeÂ idea of Christianity. I’m sorry, butÂ thisÂ will not work out.
– Domino Jays.
Have a nice life withÂ ‘God'”
Â People say they saw me walk down the middle aisle loosening my tight vest and spiking up my hair (it was flattened to look more presentable. It’s normally spiked.) and untucking my dress shirt. I’ve gone rogue from the only girl I’ve loved.Â We never spoke again. But sometimes I can’t help but think. Would all my suffering be over if I just stayed?
NowÂ the only way I got the last part after I left was her brother coming to confront me about my letter. Yelling at me during school hours on how I could leave the sermon like that, and I should be burned for it. He even shoved the letter in my face before leaving me alone. I left because I didn’t want to be forced a religion I didn’t want. Some people will call my actions wrong, or selfish. But I did what I felt right. I would have rather have her done it for herself, rather than for me. It made me sick, knowing that she was only continuing in her religion for me. I didn’t want her to do it for me. So I left to show her that she didn’t need to do it for me. She has her own life. She doesn’t need me. Just herself.