There's this boy in the neighbourhood.
There’s this boy in the neighbourhood. He was born and raised in a devout Christian family. He grew up in a devout Christian neighbourhood. He grew up as a devout Christian. Everybody knew him as the Christian boy.
Then he dated a Moslem girl. He was so in love with the girl and everyone was in doubt of it. After years of relationship, he was no longer the Christian boy. Even long after it ended, to everyone else he was the boy who dated a Moslem girl.
One day he realized he got so fed up with rituals, so he stopped doing them gradually. Started from Sunday masses to prayers before meals. And so in people’s eyes, he became the boy who gave up religion. (Oh, actually, the old lady accross the street called him the boy who gave up heaven.)
The boy told them he was a non-devout and they gave him fake understanding smile. And talked behind his back. Some decided to give him a cooler nickname: the agnostic boy.
He couldn’t care less.
Long after, he shared them a little piece of his mind – of his heart – about religion, about rituals, about faith. About God. They gave him curious look which then turned into doubtful one. And took it not quite long to turn into defensive rejection. The boy knew instantly what had happened, though he didn’t really understand why. He got confused and strangely he felt lonely. He was helpless for everyone he knew gave him that look. Everyone and everywhere he went.
So he turned to the Only One he knew would listen. The One he knew him best. The One he called “Dad”.
He sat on a park bench on his own, stared at the blue sky and let out a short sigh. The cold breeze blew his hair.
“Hey, Dad,” said the boy as if to no one, “I think they think I’m an atheist and they’ve killed me in their mind. What You say I should do about that, eh?”
- - -
(Black Canyon, 29/06/2012)