“That Which is Still Private” (Poem)

This was written 12 August 2018. For some more detail, check out this post.

This or that still bothers me,

A lot of which

I do not talk freely.

There’s a lot

I haven’t shared,

Some of it

I do not yet dare.

Not because I wish to hide

But because so different

Is my perspective on life

Than so many

Who are close to me.

I don’t want to disappoint,

Though I know

It’s a bit inevitable.

Regardless of how it goes,

While my perspective

Isn’t set in stone,

I will not change

Because of adverse reactions.

I’ve given thought

To my positions,

And do not wish to debate

Family or friends,

Generally, on such issues.

I understand what and why

They believe as they do

As well as why I disagree.

I plan to explain,

But they may not understand,

As I’ve already seen happen.

Deleted Drafts: Once Was Garmasapon

I’m not sure how much of the original draft of this story I still have, I’ll have to search for it. This is just chapter one. I had at least three chapters.

It’s a rather strange story about the island country Garmasapon and a woman who has an Esther-like situation where she marries the king by arranged marriage. I don’t even know where the plot was going. There was supposed to be a conflict with Malaposie, a near-ish island country that hated Garmasapon. What I actually have, though, is just weird.

Once upon a time there was a far away land called Garmasapon. In Garmasapon there was always peace among the people, never violence. The people who founded the land had found the island by chance — it was completely secluded. As far as the townspeople knew they’d never been invaded by their enemy — the land of Malaposie.

But that’s just the beginning! This is a story about Garmasapon’s leader Garlasha who absolutely hated Malasha, the leader of Malaposie. First off I bet you’re wondering who I am? Well I’ll begin our story by telling you — Garmasha, wife of Garlasha. Now on to the story that I promised to tell you.

My husband was born into royalty — in fact he was a descendant of our founder Garmasapon. As a boy he wasn’t allowed to dirty his clothes, cause mischief, or interact with villagers and servants! He was full of hatred because of this rule, until he found that he would soon be king of all Garmasapon! When he found out he told the servants to go through all of Garmasapon and bring all virgins who are not married and are over eight years of age to the palace for him to decide whom he’d marry! The servants naturally obeyed.

I was (as you can guess) one of these girls. I tried to get them to let me stay, but they said it was the king’s command — so I consented. After pageants, beauty contests, and a filling out of many personality profiles, the last twenty girls were presented to the king. After he narrowed it down to ten, then five, he chose me as his bride. This to me was shocking because I was only thirteen! Still three years under the marriage quota!

He was sixteen and he ordered the wedding to be arranged at once! The cooks made cakes of all sizes, and invitations were sent out to all the nobility (and my relatives). The next week we had the wedding.

I was in a huge, white dress covered in gold adornments. He was in a matching suit and breaches. (I have to admit, he was stunning!) The wedding ceremony was simple: we both said our vows and pledged our hearts to each other. (I didn’t have much choice in this, but I was still excited about my wedding.)

After the ceremony had taken place, the festivities began. We cut the main cake and we (as was the custom) shared the first piece. Then everyone received their piece and we sang, danced, and enjoyed each other’s company. After what seemed like days we (Garlasha and I) went back to the Palace.

We had a four-poster bed and a giant room. The closet was very large as well, and amazingly it already had about fifty dresses! I asked him how the dresses got there.

“When you filled out the personality profile these dresses were made for you,” he replied simply.

“How did you know if they’d fit?” I asked.

“You had a dress fitting early on, like all the girls.”

“Oh yeah,” I said remembering.

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me I have to go take my royal bath.”

“Is there another bathroom for me to bathe?”

“This one, you’re royalty now so you will bathe in the royal bathtub.”

“While you’re in there?” I asked shocked.

“No! After I’m done bathing.”

“Oh, good. You had me worried for a minute!”

“Well you had no reason to worry,” he said calmly.

So I waited for him to finish, but after a few minutes I got bored so I decided to try on a few of the dresses. The first one was an elegant, flowing, blue ball gown with pearl adornments! I tried it on at once (not knowing if I’d get in trouble for this). I waltzed around the room until I stopped in front of a full length mirror. I looked so elegant!

I hurried and tried on the next one. A blue, silky, flowing gown most likely for dining purposes. I rushed back to the mirror and looked at myself in the gown. Then I froze; I saw my new husband looking at me from the doorway to the bathing room. I slowly turned around, and saw him start to smile at me. I started to relax and smiled back.

He moved out of the doorway and gestured inside.

“I had the tub filled with fresh water for you,” he said.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. About the dresses –”

“Don’t worry about it, everything is fine,” he interrupted me.

With that I headed into the bathing room to take my bath. I undressed and eased myself into the hot water and bubbles. I had just fully encased my body, not including my head, in the hot water when three ladies came in through a door I hadn’t noticed. They were the royal bathing maids.

“What scent of soap would you like?” one of them asked me.

“Umm, do you have orange?” I asked mostly just wondering.

“Yes, we do,” another one told me.

“We’ll be right back with the soap,” the first maid told me.

They walked into what must have been a servant entryway to the bathing room. After about five minutes they returned with a large container of orange colored soap. They walked over to the tub and set the container on the side of it.

“Are you reader for this?” the third asked me.

“Honestly, no.”

“Would you rather wash yourself?” the first asked.

“Yes.”

“The king said this you’re to have that option.”

And with that she handed me the wash rag, opened to soap and left.

I washed quickly, stepped out, and then noticed they had not brought me a towel! Then someone peeked their head in and brought a towel.

“Thank you.”

They nodded their head in response, then left. I dried quickly then went to ask my husband (wrapped in the towel) where to find my night clothes.

“In your closet, at the very back,” he told me.

I walked to the back of the closet and pulled out a thin blue dress and undergarments. I went back in the bathing room and donned my night clothes. I put my towel on the rack and went back out into the bedroom.

He was sitting in the bed, waiting for me so he could turn out the lamp. I climbed in on the other side, and made an effort to be as close to the edge as possible without falling out. Then I heard his voice piercing the darkness.

“I understand your discomfort to this whole situation. I know that I’d be uncomfortable if a strange woman requested that I marry her,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I am uncomfortable, but I think it may be for the better of the people.”

“It is for the people. In a way… I didn’t want my father arranging my marriage to a girl I didn’t want to marry, so you know what I did from there.”

Somehow I felt comfortable talking to him, I think because he talked to me first.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” I whisper so softly I didn’t think he heard.

Then he answered, “I’m sorry you didn’t have a say in this situation, but it was a bit urgent as my father was very sick. If I didn’t marry before his death I’d marry the girl he had hand chosen.”

“Have you met her?”

“Yes, only once, but she was as snooty as they come. That’s part of why I wanted someone who wasn’t as rich.”

“Thank you,” I said realizing this was meant as a compliment.

With that said we both fell asleep quickly.

The Hunters and the Hunted (Short Story)

This was based on a prompt, which is the first two sentences.

“Should we let him know we’re on to him?”

“Now where’s the fun in that? The enjoyment is in the chase and capture, not the fear!”

Whispering voices are audible from my place deep in the alley. I hang in the darkness, watching, waiting. The two figures hover near the walls of the alley, looking out into the dimly lit street.

If I didn’t know better, I would assume they were speaking of someone else. But I do know better. Lucky for me, the speakers are oblivious to my location. They seem to think I am roaming the street, which I was, shortly prior to overhearing a small portion of their dialogue.

“Where is he? He should have passed this alley by now!”

“How should I know? Doesn’t he live near here?”

“Yes. Unless he ran away from home… At which point he’s unpredictable.”

I never had a home. Not that you could know that.

I bring a hand to my forehead as I notice one of the figures flinch. I sent that thought, albeit accidentally.

“He’s close by. He heard us,” the voice shivers, hardly a breath.

“How do you know?” Suspicion from his counterpart, though his voice lowers as well.

“He spoke to me…”

It was unintentional, I swear.

Both figures stiffen at my now purposeful invasion of their minds.

“Where are you?”

Not your business. Close enough to hear and see you without being seen.

They bolt from the alley, unsurprisingly. Once they are gone, I sigh, realizing I had been holding my breath. Had they heard me, found me… I hate to think what would have happened… What I would have been forced to do

I release the brick of the building I was perched on, dropping silently to the concrete below. My cloak fades, the fabric dissipating into the surrounding air from whence it came. I could not explain how I was able to accomplish this feat if I tried, I still do not know.

My fingertips graze the red-black brick as I lurk out of the alley. A filmy encasement materializes around me, invisibility of a sort, matching my movements.

I stand under the street lamp, deliberating. Do I go home, or do I leave entirely?

Home, as I call it somewhat jokingly, is barely a suitable shelter, and I am alone. Leaving entails forsaking all I have ever known, all I have assumed I would ever know.

But those people… I call them Hunters, and I have no clue what they could do to me. Not long ago, there were others like me, living with me, but they are gone. I do not know what happened to them or where they have been taken, only that it was the Hunters who took them. All the things I might be able to do to them, it might be futile if they are truly Hunters, like those who took my friends…

Leaving is the best option, in the morning I’ll gather my few things and disappear from this place.

Nothing more could be done. Later, perhaps it would be safe to return. Perhaps leaving would prove more disastrous than remaining, but I couldn’t know that until afterwards. I do not know what the world beyond this single city entails, but I will risk that discovery.

I slink home, thinking along the way about departing and what I will need for the journey. Even as short as the trip will be, it will be exhausting. Moving discreetly always is, especially as I will need to steal the provisions, using more energy.

I arrive at the building, lifting myself to the roof in a seemingly effortless manner. I quietly enter the dilapidated roof apartment, falling onto my heap of moth-eaten blankets.

“Good night, world,” I mumble as black overtakes me.

Morning light streaming through my dirt streaked windows wakes me. I roll over onto my back, rubbing my eyes with one of my dirty hands. I pull myself to my feet, looking out the dingy window closest to my bedding.

My thoughts jump back to the previous night and my determination to leave.

No, I can’t. My friends might still be here. If I had been taken, I wouldn’t want them to leave me. I have to find them, even if it puts my life on the line, or almost kills me.

I still need supplies, and I still need to avoid the Hunters from the alley.

~*~*~*~*~

“Hallan, be careful!”

“It’s okay, Analyn, I can do this.”

I clung to the side of our building, most of the way up, about to let go.

I released the building, and Analyn screamed. My feet gently touched the concrete before I immediately returned to stand by Analyn.

Tears streamed down her face and violent sobs choked her.

“Analyn, I’m okay,” she looked up, eyes already red.

“Hallan, you could have died! I thought I’d never see you again!”

I pulled her into my arms, struggling to console her, “Shh, I’m alright. I wasn’t going to get hurt.”

“Don’t do that to me again! I couldn’t bear to lose you, you’re like a brother to me!” She wrapped her arms tightly around my torso, tears beginning to soak my shirt.

“Okay, Ana.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Hallan! You’re back! Oh, I’m so glad you’re safe!”

“So am I. How was everything here at home, Colby?”

He smiled, “Analyn worried about you the whole time, saying things like, ‘He promised he wouldn’t do this to me!’ and ‘I can’t believe he’d do something so reckless!’”

I laughed, “That’s just like Ana! Worried even when I’ve done this a million times.”

Colby nodded, “She wasn’t the only one worried when you didn’t come home on time, though. Leynard and Shelly were too, as was I.”

My face hardened, “I had to take a longer route because there were Hunters.”

His voice shook, “Hunters? You almost got caught?”

I shook my head no, “Of course not. I noticed them, heard their thoughts, and moved away from where they were posted.”

He sighed, “Thank goodness! Were they close to Garter’s?”

“No. They were halfway between his grocery and here.”

He nodded, “Good. I’m glad you’re safe, and the others will be too.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, Leynard! Wake up!”

A grunt escaped the sleeping boy, “No!”

“It’s morning. We have food!”

He sat up sleepily, but with sparkling eyes, “Food?”

“Mhm, food. Want some?” I knew he did, we all did.

“Duh!”

Analyn and Colby laughed. Of all of us, Leynard was the most obsessed with food, eating as much as we would let him and asking for more if there was any.

“I made a cake!” Shelly exclaimed excitedly, having used her powers for one of the first times.

“Mmm, cake!” Leynard practically drooled as Shelly handed him a chunk of icingless chocolate cake.

Each of us received a chunk, leaving only a piece for Shelly to eat.

“This is so good!”

“Leynard, stop spewing cake in the house! Keep your mouth closed!” Analyn scolded him.

~*~*~*~*~

“Shelly!” Analyn screamed as Shelly fell off the roof, reaching an arm over the edge desperately.

I jumped over the side, quickly hovering just below the youngest of our group.

My feet hit the concrete and I bounded back to the roof. Shelly clung tightly to my neck, eyes  squeezed shut.

Safely on the roof once again, I set the girl down.

Tears streamed down their faces, sobs cracking their throats. I understood the fear they had experienced, adrenaline was pumping through my veins too.

“Are you alright?” I fought to keep my voice steady, to be strong for them.

She nodded, shaking, “I-I think so. Th-thank you, Hallan!”

“You’re welcome. Are you okay, Ana?” I placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, concern laced through my gaze.

She nodded, and I engulfed both of them into my arms, glad everyone was alive.

~*~*~*~*~

I have to save them! If they’re still alive, I must save them! I just… don’t know how.

I left my small shack, soaring from rooftop to rooftop for about fifteen blocks. Garter’s small grocery store was still in business, thankfully.

Garter’s Family Grocery was the one place I was unafraid of showing my face, unafraid of the regular human population. Mr. Garter was a kind old man and often gave me food, so long as I helped him out a bit in the grocery and washed my hands and face.

Hello, Mr. Garter.

The old man looked at the door, startled. He saw my dirt-covered face and smiled.

“Hello again, Hallan. How can I help you?”

“I came to help you in exchange for more food.”

His smile continued, “Wash your face and hands in the bathroom first. I could really use some help today, a new order came in recently.”

I nodded, walking to the back corner of the somewhat small grocery.

An hour later, I left Mr. Garter’s grocery behind, carrying two paper sacks with supplies. Some things were perishable, and some needed cooked, but nothing required refrigeration.

I walked a distance down the sidewalk before pulling my invisibility fog into existence. Several pedestrians’ eyes widened, looking at where I had just stood.

You’re not as crazy as you think.

The pedestrians quickly turned to face forward, unhinged by my invasion of their minds. They would definitely think they were crazy, after watching me disappear and then hearing my voice in their heads. Luckily, I would not be sending them more thoughts any time soon, if ever.

I quickly bounded home in the same way I left.

Upon closing the door, I simply deposited both bags on the floor.

How can I save them? How can I even find them? The only people who know of their location are the Hunters… Obviously the Hunters won’t help me rescue them… But they could lead me to them!

I began pacing the small front room, finger to my chin, elbow resting against the arm crossed over my chest.

As I turned towards the door again, an arm wrapped around me from behind and a hand pressed a cloth forcefully against my mouth and nose. I shoved the hand away quickly, a dizziness pulsing through me. A strong hand clenched over my wrist, and the cloth again smothered me.

~*~*~*~*~

I groaned, rolling onto my side, my head throbbing. The surface beneath my skin was searingly cold, and I shivered as my cheek rested against it.

“Hallan,” a soft voice whispered, “are you awake?”

I cracked my eyes open, Is that you, Ana?

Yes, she responded calmly.

How long have I been here?

I’m not sure. The Hunters brought you in unconscious and locked you in with us.

All of you are here?! I start to sit up, but groan and quickly lay down again.

Yes, but Colby was taken out not long ago. Shelly and Leynard are resting.

Where did they take Colby?

A sadness seeped into Ana’s thoughts, We don’t know. Whenever they take us out, they blindfold us.

I wanted to save you all, but it seems I was too late.

I don’t know that you’d have been able to. They know how to fight back. How to resist our powers.

Inactivity Notice

I am going on vacation from August 24 through September 2. During that time I may or may not be able to check my email and website.

I am working to have content ready for that time. It will be scheduled and posted as usual, but there likely will not be a Facebook or Twitter post about it. If you would like to be updated without regard to my access to social media, be sure to follow the blog via email or with your WordPress account.

Thank you for checking out my blog and website. I’ll be back soon.

-Alyssa

Do I Know You? (Short Story)

This was written quite a while back. It was based on a prompt. If I can find it I will add it to the end of the post so as not to spoil the story.

“He’s stirring! Oh, thank goodness!”

Azlyn opened his emerald eyes sluggishly. The blurred image before him refused to focus, colored blobs shimmering, pulsating almost.

“Azlyn! Oh, Azlyn!” A hand clasped his own joyfully, “I’ve waited nearly two months for you to wake up!”

When he opened his mouth to speak, his throat was dry and his voice sickeningly froggy, “I can’t see you. Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me?” A sharp stroke of pain oozed into his tone.

“No… Am I Azlyn?”

The shimmering blob shook, “Yes… Oh, Azlyn, I’m Talmir! I’m your best friend!”

“Excuse me, Mr. Boriska, I’m going to have to ask you to leave Mr. Conory’s room for now.”

“Doctor, can’t I please stay a bit longer?”

“No, Mr. Boriska, you must go. Mr. Conory needs medical assistance now that he has awakened.”

~*~*~*~*~

Talmir drove home from the hospital dejectedly. At least, he walked out of the hospital dejectedly. Once he was alone in the parking garage in his vehicle, he dialed an accomplice of his.

“Myra?”

“Yes? What is it, Talmir?”

“Azlyn’s awake.”

“Good,” Myra’s voice moves to sickly sweet at the news.

“Tomorrow I’ll visit him again.”

“Did they make you leave?”

“Mhm. Said no more visitors until tomorrow. He needs glasses or contacts, and he has amnesia.”

Myra laughed, a chilling sounds to any other ears, “Even better.”

A chuckle burbles in Talmir’s throat, “Which part?”

“Mostly amnesia, though possibly bad eyesight as well.”

“I’m about to be on the road, I’ll stop by your apartment to talk further.”

“Bye, Talmir,” silky smooth as usual…

~*~*~*~*~

Who am I? The thought echoed through Azlyn’s mind, echoing, echoing, echoing still.

No response. He simply had no notion of who Azlyn was, who he was. It was lost.

“Azlyn? Hello, Azlyn? Are you listening to me?”

Azlyn snapped out of his stupor to see Talmir’s cloudy blue eyes close to his own bright green ones.

“Sorry… What were you saying?”

Talmir shook his head with a sigh, “So you weren’t listening… Tomorrow you leave the hospital. Where will you go?”

“I don’t know… I’ve been told my parents are dead… And all my other relatives… they’re too far away. They don’t even know about the accident.”

Talmir took Azlyn’s hand, “You could stay with me, Az. I could try to help you remember, and if you can’t, I could help you start over. Figure out who you are now. Y’know?”

“Not really… I have no idea who I am, I don’t know you – sorry – I don’t know anyone right now! How can I go back to life when I don’t know where I’ve been or what I’ve done, when I feel like my own name is unfamiliar!”

Talmir looked away forlornly, “I don’t know, Az. I don’t know either.”

Azlyn removed his hand from Talmir’s grasp, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know that I could live with someone it feels that I’ve never met.”

“At least stay with me until you have a better plan, until you get back on your feet.”

“All right. But only until then.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Myra, great news. Azlyn is staying with me until he can afford his own place.”

Myra pecked his cheek, “Good. Try to keep him there.”

“So far he’s had no luck landing a job. No one wants to hire someone with amnesia.”

She laughed her chilling laugh, “Better still for us. Better still.”

Talmir smiles, lacing his fingers with hers as they stroll through the deserted park.

“He may eventually catch on, you know. That would not work well.”

“No… Just never let him know that he’s a billionaire, never let him know.”

“Of course. No one will ever know. Except us.”

Myra stopped walking, pulling him into a swift, noxious kiss under the trees before slipping away toward her sleek black convertible.

~*~*~*~*~

“Azlyn? Az? Are you here?”

Silence, a wide nefarious smile formed on Talmir’s lips.

“All the better,” he mumbled, pulling an orange envelope from his backpack.

Talmir signed Azlyn Conory on the bank note, but he had just finished when the door opened.

“Hi Talmir… What is that?” Azlyn came closer, and seeing his name on the paper, he looked at Talmir incredulously, “Talmir, what have you not been telling me?”

Talmir set the paper and envelope on the counter, stalking to his bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~

“He knows.”

“What!” Talmir shuddered at Myra’s anger, even over the phone.

“He walked in when I was signing the papers…”

“How could you be so careless!” She was shouting in his ear.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix this. We were going to be RICH, RICH! You’ve RUINED everything!” She hissed then screamed.

Talmir quickly hung up, unable to take her rage.

What have I done? he thought. Azlyn obviously won’t trust me… I might go to jail. Talmir froze.  I might go to jail. I might go to jail. I might gotojail. Imightgotojail. The thought repeated endlessly, blurring together.

Why I’m Not a Christian

Alyssa Wright shares her deconversion experience, explaining how she drifted from Christianity into atheism.

I’ve been thinking about writing this for months now. At first I thought it might go on Over the Invisible Wall, but I don’t think it fits. Mostly because of the mission statement we created. I’m finally writing this and telling everyone the truth. I’ve implied a lot about my beliefs through omission of my thoughts, so I’m here to clear up some of the basics and tell my story.

This is just my experience. Your experience can be different. That’s fine. You can believe as you will and so can I.

I used to be a Christian, or at least I tried to be.

When I was five, I went to vacation Bible school (VBS) at my family’s church. The leaders presented the gospel and I asked Jesus to “come into my heart” so after I died, I could go to heaven. I was terrified of hell. If it’s real, it is and should be terrifying. Eternal, never-ending torture with no relief? Who wouldn’t beg to be forgiven for whatever wrongdoing had sent them there?

The next few years I attended VBS, I again went forward to ask Jesus to “come into my heart” to save me. I feared that my previous requests were not genuine and I was still destined for hell. This fear was persistent and recurrent. I could not shake this the whole time I considered myself a Christian.

When I was nine, I told my parents and church leaders I wanted to be baptized. At the time, I had some understanding that baptism is a public declaration to the church that you’re a Christian too. I also knew it was something I was supposed to do, but I had never seen anyone get baptized or heard of people I knew getting baptized. I’m not exactly sure how I came to my decision, but I was baptized, along with other kids from my Sunday school class and a few others.

Around the age of thirteen, perhaps a bit before, I began to struggle with depression. I now have a hunch that it was likely in part due to the hormonal swing that accompanies the menstrual cycle. However, at the time, and for years, it was a near-constant state for me. I still experienced positive emotions such as happiness but a lot of times I felt hopeless. I recall a myriad of times that I begged God to end my life. I was in a dark place a lot of the time. Most of my poetry from that time is about all the negative thoughts and feelings I had.

I was taught my whole life that I am a horrible, sinful human being that deserves to go to hell, that it is entirely my fault if I end up there, that I will have chosen to go to hell. This intermingled with the other aspects of my depression. I felt very strongly that I deserved to die, that I shouldn’t be alive because I didn’t deserve to live. There were times that things felt too hard to handle, I felt like I couldn’t go on, I didn’t want to live. I frequently had suicidal thoughts. I will not disclose more detail about my thoughts in that vein as it is a dangerous thing to do.

I prayed and prayed. At first, I prayed for God to kill me or make the rapture happen now. Later, I started praying that I might be free of depression. I’m not entirely free of depression, but things are looking up. It took years, though, and I was at risk for a long time before I was able to combat the thoughts I was having.

Between the ages of thirteen and about sixteen I kept flip flopping from trying to pursue a relationship with God to giving up and back. When I was pursuing God and godliness I spent a lot of time praying, reading my Bible, and memorizing Bible verses. I asked for closeness, I sought after it. When I prayed, it felt like I was talking to myself. If ever a voice spoke to me when I asked a question, it was quite obviously from my own mind.

I would pray for strength to resist sin, and I would do well avoiding things considered sinful for a few days or a couple weeks. Then I would buckle and cave. I felt incredibly guilty over this. Many times I gave up pursuing God because I kept failing, beating myself up over my failure, asking for help, not getting it, and repeating. More than a few times I decided to quit trying.

In that same window of time, I found that I was attracted to girls and guys. I was taught that homosexuality was bad and sinful and against God’s plan. I didn’t choose to be attracted to people regardless of gender. If I chose who I’d find attractive, I would be straight not bisexual. I didn’t understand why something I didn’t choose was so sinful. A position I encountered was that homosexual desires themselves were not wrong but acting on them was. However, to be consistent, you have to acknowledge that based on Jesus’ equation of lust and adultery, homosexual desires are the same as acting upon those desires. It didn’t make sense to me why it was sinful.

For about the last year and a half, I started having more problems with aspects of Christianity not making sense. While I thought through some of the contentions, I stumbled into the atheist community on YouTube and started watching videos. A lot of what they were saying made a lot of sense to me. What I knew and understood of theology, philosophy, and logic was not sufficient to form counterarguments I found convincing. At that time, and for a while, I was at near-perfect agnosticism, uncertainty whether there is or is not a god. I have since drifted further from agnostic theism into agnostic atheism.

I have an article I wrote detailing a logical problem I have with a specific aspect of Christianity and God. It is too long to include here so I will be editing it and sharing it in the future.

I was once committed to theism and Christianity. My life centered around it. Everyone I knew well was a Christian. It was easy. Over time, faith wasn’t enough, the arguments weren’t convincing enough, and it fell apart for me. That is why I no longer consider myself a Christian.

If you have questions, please ask them in the comments. I don’t want a debate, but if you want more detail about certain parts of my story I will do my best to recall them.

“Forgotten” (Poem)

I finished drafting the important post I have coming up. It will be out soon. Also, I bought more coffee yesterday because we’re running out. Another installment of The Coffee Explorations will be out once I drink the new stuff.

This was written 10 August 2018. It is day four of my current streak.

I lost the words

from earlier,

what a shame that is.

They may never

come again,

but who’ll know any different?

The words are gone,

not to be found,

dissipated when I spoke aloud.

And no one there to listen.

No one but me

and I forget.