When I was a kid, just a really young one, I, for once in my life, thought about God.
Now, my grandparents were avid Christians, and whenever I went to stay with them, they took me to church. My sisters (who I am going to rename for use here) each had their qualms with church.
Bella was skeptical, but she would sing. She would make it clear to anyone who asked (and sometimes those who didn't) that she didn't believe in Him.
Rosemary was... indignant. Rebellious. She felt almost like a dog on a leash when it came to God. She saw Him as trying to control her, telling her not to like girls, not to play video games, not to wear all black, not to get lip piercings. It was stifling. So she launched an inner campaign against Him.
I was... different. I was still trying to be the Golden Child, because it's better to be fake than to be disliked. Or so i thought. I tried to be normal because I told myself that 'at least I have some sort of survival instinct'.
And I honestly wanted to believe in God. But I couldn't. Belief in such an entity requires faith. And I?
I am a faithless person.