I Forgot to Die

by Khalil Rafati

I actually really loved the idea of Jesus and very much enjoyed hearing about his teachings. Sometimes I would even pray to him. But the exposure to all these new rituals left me more confused than ever. One thing is for sure—it solidified my belief that I was different and I didn’t belong. Sitting, then standing, then kneeling and making the sign of the cross had my head spinning with doubt and self-hatred.

I still felt separated from myself, watching it happen with all the other kids, our jaws dropping in astonishment. But I also felt relieved, like the lid had been taken off the pressure cooker.

I should have felt bad. Ashamed. But I was exhilarated. I’d found my first drug, my first addiction: defiance.