a girl who reads her bible is a *****. a ******. a snitch. a snob. a religious freak. she will follow you around and exorcise and speak of heaven and hell until you lift your bottle and drink to that lunatic. you claim spirituality instead of religion and say you're buddhist and you meditate and do yoga and save the trees and marine life. you make up your own rules so that you can have fun and feel moral at the same time. then you slip up and change your rules and when people ask you simply say you are searching. you don't know what you are but you know what everyone else is. and those people who have it all figured out with their books and doctrines and churches and institutions and traditions. they are the ones who are fake. they follow a patten that has been meaningless since the fourth century of its practice. the repetition renders its worshippers numb and everyone just sulks through the service to save their soul.

but you. you are wrong.

let me paint you a picture.

a woman has been accused her whole life of being too religious. too stiff. she falls down a dark path that nobody, even the immoral, condones. she is lost and she stumbles and falls and wakes up not knowing what happened the night before. but under the painted and gilded ceilings of a cathedral she finds peace. she finds comfort. she feels the arms of God around her and he is the only one who has ever loved her enough to embrace her. he, who everyone considers the elitist, has accepted this girl who is globally considered the **** of the earth. to him she is a diamond. a story. a soul. a set of memories and words and pictures and a lifetime's worth of emotions and pain and joy.

so next time you see that religious freak walking around holding her head up. you think again. examine the shoulders set back and unwavering gaze. she asks you to listen to what she says. not because she thinks she is right and you are a sinner. she is trying to share with you. her art. her salvation. the thing that has saved her and been beautiful and gave her hope again. it is her child, her garden, her masterpiece. it is her religion. and she does not treasure it simply to convert you.