My Favorite Day In The Middle School

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queer. Sundays are my favorite. Unlike other days, they manage to feel reliable and comforting. From my earliest childhood memories to late middle school, they began the same way: my dad turning on the ceiling fan and pulling covers off of me, “Wake up! We overslept,” he would say. “Do we have to go,” I would plead. “Of course, we do,” and I understood why. If we didn’t, members of the church would knock on our door in a few hours to guilt-trip us into a Bible study at home. Although sleeping in was much more appealing, I enjoyed church. Even though we were late, breakfast was a must. Cinnamon rolls and brewing coffee filled the air as I hurried through the shower. People thought I was a strange kid – or boy, I should say. I wouldn’t leave the house without taking a shower first. I didn’t mind their judgment though, I hated being dirty. And besides, cleanliness is next to Godliness, right? Religion can be a wonderful thing; a fixation for some, a truth for others. Unfortunately, for me, it was neither. Growing up in church was convivial, but looking back now, it’s nothing short of terrifying. Children have such malleable minds, and their introduction to organized religion is one thing for certain: brainwashing. I don’t resent my parents for introducing me to religion, I resent them for the effects these uniform teachings have had on me. I found a book of journaling prompts that I had as a child titled Do-It-Yourself. I flipped through it and entertained myself with

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