It Started With A CatI had this cat named Simba (great original name, I know) and that cat was my best ******* friend in the whole world.He'd wait by the door for me to come home from school, sleep beside me at night, come to me when I cried. Simba made moving to a stupid hick town bearable. I had planned to kill myself when I was nine.I couldn't deal with the new town, the new social rules, the new kids who all hated me. I hated them too.I just wanted everything to be the way it was before I moved. Before I killed myself, Simba came into my room and jumped on me, and I looked at him and I realized he wanted to me stay and that he loved me.
Years later, Simba was hit by a car and he passed.I was devastated. I felt like I lost everything important to me.
Having been raised Christian, I asked my mom if Simba was going to heaven. I assumed he was, and that idea brought me a lot of comfort.I just wanted to kinda confirm it with my mom I guess.
She said (and I don't bear her any ill will, because I know she was being honest ba
I couldn't go with a doctrine that said my cat, who I believed in my heart of hearts had a soul and a personality and unique consciousness, was nothing.That he was going to rot. Heaven wasn't heaven without Simba, and if he wasn't there, I didn't want to be there either.I renounced my faith that day at age 11.