How to love an invisible man.

by Mae
(Hendersonville, Tennessee, United States)

There was a time I loved Jesus. Now, however, I'm not sure I even believe in a god. Sure, I go to church every Saturday and Wednesday. I raise my hands in worship, I know all the Saturday school answers, I pray every night. I don't cuss, I'm very modest, I don't hang with bad people. But I'm empty. I don't feel any spark of love or faith. Hearing a good sermon or one that applies to my testimony brings tears to my eyes. As soon as they call alter call though, I dry 'em up and bite my lip, because I'm ashamed. I feel like everyone's watching me, judging me. I'm only sixteen, but my past is so screwed up. I grew up with a schizophrenic mother whom cheated on my "dad", aka the man who raised me, and had me. I am a bastard child. My mother was often doped up on drugs and passed out a lot, whilst my dad was busy with one of his skanks. My brother and I fended for ourselves, eating expired cereal and moldy popcorn because my parents were too busy to go grocery shopping. When they finally divorced, my brother blamed me. He hit me often, called me vulgar and viscious names. My dad never knew, because after my brother hit me, he pleaded for mercy and cried apologies. It broke my ten through fourteen old heart. But I was scarred from my mothers abondenment and loss of family love. By the age of twelve, I partied and did drugs. It wasn't even due to peer pressure. It was my own choice. Honestly, I pressured everyone else to do what I was doing. I can't imagine how many people I've led to hell. I told all my friends that the day I turned sixteen, I wanted to throw a party and lose my virginity to the quarterback. And I was thirteen at this point. Something happened though. I wanted to go to church. So I did. And my whole family, four step siblings, a stepmom, and my "dad" were saved, I thought we were. Now my stepmom harrasses me, my dads always busy, and I am

left out, often forgotten in my family. My older brother ran away and joined the army the day he turned eighteen. But I held my head high, read my bible and prayed for something, anything. I've given up. I don't know how to feel. At school, I'm the goody-two shoes christian, always smiling, the class clown, popular. Same at church. But nobody sees what goes on inside my head. How during service I'll have tears in my eyes, how badly I wanna go up to the alter and cry out for help. How sometimes I just need someone to talk to. But I don't trust anyone. I don't know how to open up. There'll be nights where I cry myself to sleep, and randomly blow up on my parents and lock myself in my room. How at church, I convince myself god is real and he cares, but I'm too ashamed to go up and ask for prayer. Everyone thinks I'm perfect, golden. But I'm not. I'm constantly tempted to call up old friends and go to a party. I can't believe in Jesus! Not when I was mentally and physically abused. Not when 9 and 10 year olds are raped around the world. Not when I feel emptiness all the time. Maybe if I saw him face to face. I can't just go by what the bible says, I can't have faith, not when I;ve been through what I've been through! And it doesn't help when you have a judgemental stepmom or non-believing dad. At this stage in life, little things make me cry. I liked this guy, and he got a girlfriend after showing signed of affection towards me. I blubbered like a baby and literally sank into a depression. I'm losing it. I don't know how to have faith and surrender it all. Reading my bible doesn't work, praying doesn't work, I don't trust anyone to talk about it with. The pathetic thing is all my peers and friends come to me for spiritual and emotional help. They don't notice that I need a helping hand though. That I'm super insecure and scared about my future, or even that I feel too.

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