Where We ConvergeOkay.
Put simply, I love my faith. It's an essential part of me that I can't necessarily expunge with a thought; I'm in the choir, I serve at mass, and I'm relatively near and dear to my local pastor. I've grown up with it, that faith, and I've developed a loving relationship with God over the years that I can't bring myself to part with. Not that I would ever actually do such a thing, but the thought and the fear of rejection remains.
I don't fear rejection from God, though, really. To me, a God that is supposedly loving and kind and merciful would not cast into Hell someone who has done nothing wrong but love. I can't explain it thoroughly, but somehow, I know that God is not so shallow as to persecute anyone for their affections, for their love; He...I don't know. I guess it's safe to say that He's a Lover, not a Hater (something lots of people can learn from), and at the moment, He's the only person I know that won't completely reject me.
People. Um. People say I'm kind. I don't think I'm kind. I make mistakes and I hurt other people, but that's just what being human is, isn't it? I guess. I think. Anyway, people say I'm kind, but that my kindness is the equivalent to stupidity, because I trust in people way too often. (I suppose that was evident enough already, considering I'm putting my story in the hands of the ruthless internet). I trust. And...I don't know. I've put trust in many people. I put trust in my priest, in my choir director, in my Religion teacher, in my friends and classmates and teachers--and yet, I can't trust them all completely. You know that feeling? When you're talking to someone, someone fantastic, in school or at Church, and you're thinking they're great, but you wonder....if they knew, about you, about how your definition of love expands just the slightest bit wider than everybody else's...would they still be your friend? Could you still trust them?
These thoughts, to me, are heartbreaking. I've known my choir director since the third grade, my priest since first. They watched my grow up. And to just lose them for something so trivial as my sexuality would break me apart. It's all a matter of trust, I suppose. Trusting other people. Having them trust you back. It's a two-way street, and once one of the roads is blocked, things change.
Everything, it changes. Your perspective on things. The way you view the people sitting around you at Mass, people you may have known for years.
Who would accept you.
I just...hm. I don't know if anyone understands anything about what I just said, but it's all I can think about whenever I'm at Mass. Hoping and praying to God that if I ever get the courage to come out, that I won't be barred from a place I hold so near and dear to my heart. She...er, she, that girl, um. She says things will be fine. We're both...not entirely confident at this point, however. My religious life, and my love life.
Well. I suppose I need to find where we converge.