| Current mood: |  sad |
I got inspired by  damianofdreams's story because it sounds so much like my own. I thought I HAD to let the missionaries into my house. I thought I HAD to be in the church. Then like damianofdreams, I grew up. I realized that everything I believed in, didn't fit the morals or rules of the church. I can't handle hatred and all I got from trying to go to church was just that, hatred. I had a woman back me up into a corner (I was twelve at the time), yelling at me like a mad person because I was missing church (because I was finally seeing my beliefs for what they really were). My whole family is insanely mormon. I know they hate me. They hate my friends. And if they knew me at all, they would hate me even more.
My mother and my late brother were some of the only exceptions. And we are and were looked down upon. It really saddens me when people act that way. I guess that's my main argument against the church. If you're not part of it, then you aren't seen as a person. At least by the majority.
I want to get out. I really and truely do. One day I will. And I'll never look back.
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