I believe that I am a cutter. I don’t cut my skin, I cut my soul. Sometimes I hate myself because I hate “Christians”. Why do I hate myself? Because, I am a “Christian”.
No “Christian” has ever stood up for me. I spent years being made fun of by “Christians” in my high school. I was soft at heart and I didn’t fight back out of fear. I was left feeling empty at the end of the every day in high school.
We judge others, saying their lifestyle is wrong and they need to change it in order to have salvation. We don’t realize that we are wrong for judging. The “Christian” response is to pronounce that we are given the right to judge out of love for others. Did Jesus judge? No, sorry. He didn’t. He just loved us so much that he died for us.
I am a cutter inside because my friends judge me. I don’t need another savior, I just want friends. I want to be able to associate with people with alternate lifestyles without being told that I am being tempted and will be brought to sin.
Recently, I chased two of my friends from my life because of the advice of my “Christian” friends. I regret it deeply. I shunned my friends because another group told me to, and because we thought that we were better than them. I hate myself for doing that; I hurt another person because I wanted to be a good “Christian”. It makes me feel like I am dead inside. I judge other “Christians” and I judge myself. When I judge I hate and I cut my soul.
It hurts me so bad because I know that every time I get hurt Christ takes my burdens and my pain from me. He carries them like he carried his cross; I can imagine him walking past me on a dusty street, turning his head to look at me, smiling at me like everything will be ok. I hate what I am, because it hurts Christ.
You see I have a secret. I’m not really a “Christian” anymore. I know that this is better for me because “Christianity” for me is kind of like Chemotherapy for a cancer patient. It is necessary to save your life but it has bad side effects.
I don’t want to be a “Christian” I still believe in Christ and his works, I know that he is the only one who ever stood up for me, because he died for me before I was born. He took the bullet for me. He took the blame, he received the insults and he took my fall and after all that, he gave me a hug and whispered in my ear “I love you”.
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