THE HOLY GHOST
The sanctuary towers over us, its vaulted ceiling reaching for heaven - still I feel suffocated
My mom smells like hairspray, my dad smells like mouthwash - the scents are forever associated with this place
A sprawling expanse of dull blue carpet - I look down at it often, counting the fibers
I fake a cough so my dad will give me another cough drop - it melts to become sharp, and I use it to stab my tongue
Everyone sings songs they know by heart - I know them too, but I only pretend to sing with them
My dad adds extra note flourishes to the songs - where did he learn those?
I shift in my seat - the pews always make me so sore
I fidget with my skirt - my thighs touch each other under it, and I hate it
My parents next to me both take notes - what is there to take notes about?
The backs of the pews have pockets with bibles and hymnbooks - I want to read a book, but I don't want to read these books
I see my dad tear up - it's the only times besides funerals I ever see him cry
The spotlight on the pool on the stage - this is all for show, isn't it?
I hear whispers all around me - have you heard about Ms Fleming? Did you hear about Mr Curtis?
I doodle on the margins of the pamphlet - demonic creatures dance in my mind, consuming my thoughts entirely
The preacher makes a politically charged joke - the congregation makes a politically charged laugh
Every week they pass a basket and ask for tithes - every week my mom makes me tithe
I don't want to tithe my money - I don't get any allowance
I don't want to sing hymns - their tunes too loud swirl unwanted in my head
I don't want to listen to a sermon - I want to play neopets
I don't want to be baptized - I'm scared of going under water
I don't want to be here - I'm uncomfortable
My parents make me go through with it all anyway.
How do they not care?
I'm an adult now, in control of my own life.
I never have to set foot in there again.
So why do the memories of it haunt me?