They really are. Think about it for a second. There's this day that rolls around once a year, and it's only important to you (unless you're like a twin or something, or your mom's like mine is and gets all 'Oh, my baby...').
I usually don't get all freaky about them. Saturday will be my twenty-second birthday, so I'm not getting all weird about getting older or anything, but I did start thinking about all of the stuff that's gone down in the last year.
My grandpa died. He was my God. I worshipped him in my own way, more devoutly than some people devote themselves to their own deity of choice. I'm not saying that it was healthy or that I'm superior to you in my belief, just saying that he was my world and now, he's gone.
I found a belief system that I really enjoy. I have a closer relationship to the force that created me and the world and I've found peace and spiritual fulfillment through it. I feel that it's made me a better person and it's given me comfort when I needed it most. Unfortunately, I highly doubt that my family will approve of it and I'm anticipating a lecture about it in the very near future. However, I have this crazy belief that everyone's right in their own religion. Your path may not be mine, and that's fine. You're getting what you need out of yours and you're right. That invisible power that you pray to is every bit as real as you believe it to be. You can call it whatever you want and you're right. It influences you (and only you) in the exact way you say it does. Everything that you believe is right, except where it concerns people that don't believe the way you do. That's their business. It's strictly between them and their own deity.
Shake your head all you want. Tell me that I'm going to Hell because I don't go to your church. Tell me that I'll lie in wormy earth for an eternity because I don't ascribe to the same doctrines you do. Tell me whatever you want. I have my faith. You have yours. I'm sure that yours is fascinating and true and fulfilling as well, but it's not for me. Nor is mine for you. Believing in different ways is what makes the world an interesting place. I'll keep my religion to myself, sharing it with you only if you're interested, and I expect the same courtesy. I'm not going to try and convert you, and I would very much appreciate it if you would refrain from doing so to me. I'm very happy with my beliefs, and I don't like the thought of having to argue with you on the point of my salvation or damnation, because despite the efforts on your part, my fate is my own. I know your arguments as intimately as you do. You won't sway me. Please don't try.
I got drunk at a party and kissed a very good looking boy. (I've changed subjects. This isn't about religion any more. Do keep with the program. ;) ) On a related note, guess who feels pretty on a semi-regular basis as well now? It's amazing what a little attention can do to a girl's self-esteem.
I finally told my father that I was done with our farce of a relationship. I told my 'friends' from high school that I was done with them as well.
I got in a heated argument with another man who got in my face and called me (and I quote) 'a fuckin' liar' and 'a manipulative little bitch'. Guess who's going to let bygones be bygones, but never forgive nor forget?
I joined a LARP. It's kind of really fun. I like playing make-believe with all of my friends. It's a great way to end the week and blow off some of the stress from the real world. I also get to prance around in a corset.
You know, I never imagined that I'd be where I am at this age. If someone would have asked me when I was seventeen where I'd be in five years (and I'm pretty sure that they did a time or two) I would never have said that I was a LARPer, a pen-and-paper roleplaying game fan, unemployed (unless we count through the school), and surrounded by the absolute best friends in the world. I wouldn't have told them that I'd be wearing a gold-plated drillbit around my neck because my God got Leukemia. I never would have said that I would be helping out on the family goat farm when I went home on the weekends. I would have never guessed that I'd have a penchant for shots of Jack Daniels or Absinthe-Sprite cocktails, or that I would have gotten a little drunker than I meant to at a party and ended up snuggled up on a couch with that guy a week later, reading a novel about Voodoo and flirting for all I was worth.
All in all, I can't complain about the last year. But if I could have one wish, I wouldn't be mourning right now. I know better than to wish for something like that, I've read enough horror stories. But I do miss him. More than anything. And maybe, just maybe, I can become someone he would have been proud of one day.
One day.
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