It all started with a book. Sadly, it wasn't a tattered school textbook or even those fairytale books you see parents reading to their children. Although, I will have to say that this book was read to me every single night. But it wasn't to help me fall asleep, oh, no. My parents read out of the Bible every night to me so that I would be scared. They wanted me to fear God and constantly beg for his forgiveness, even if I did nothing wrong.
"Just in case," my mom always said.
My mom strongly believes in prayer, and that when you pray for something out of your heart, God will answer your prayers. She also told me that every night I pray for a pair of new shoes that God would just ignore me. The way I saw it, praying to God was like taking a number at any waiting room and hoping that your number was going to be called within the next fifteen minutes or less. The way I see it now is that no matter what, even if you were the first person and held a ticket labled with the number one, odds are, you won't be the first one to be called. That just goes to show you how unfair life is.
I guess you can say that my dad is the opposite. Actually, he didn't believe in any prayer or any sort of religious celebrations. He isn't even a devout Catholic like my mom. He's a Jehovah Witness, but even then he doesn't practice his faith. What I never understood was why he called God "Jehovah" and why my mom called God...well, you get the picture. I thought that it was stupid, since it was basically the same story. Even now, I still don't get it. He constantly lectures me on how I should pray, and yet he does nothing. Even though he used to be the one to take me to church with my mom, now it's as if he doesn't believe in the church at all. Well, to be blunt, he doesn't.
"The church brainwashes people. All they want is to collect money for themselves, those selfish bastards," he would always mumble.
"Oh, shut up Caesar," my mom retorts. "You don't know anything. You never go with us anymore."
Usually, on terms of religious discussions between my parents, I try not to get caught up in it. Once, I brought up the fact that we don't know if the Bible is accurate time-wise, since the Sun was created on the second day, or something like that. So then how would we know if the universe was created in six days (remember, he rested on the seventh day)? How would we know if that first "day" was actually two days, weeks, months, years or even centuries? Of course, when I brought this up, the only thing my mom told me was to shut up, not that she says that enough to me.
Oh, sarcasm, how I love thee.