Do you have a remedy?

 I could never explain what it was exactly. A gnawing, biting, a load without a name. But whatever it had been, it danced inside me as I sat there, pretending. Pretending to listen. Pretending to care. I hated everyone in that room.

Lately, I had felt far from God. Each time I went to church, I left feeling more alone, more angry, more solemn. This had no clear beginning. It stayed inside me like thick smoke. After the drama meeting yesterday, I came home and sat outside. I played Taylor Swift. No one could ever make me hate her. Her writing reached places most people overlooked. She had been homeschooled, but I believed she would have studied English, earned an MFA in creative writing, and written a book that would’ve won the Pulitzer.

One line from Bigger Than the Whole Sky caught me off guard: “Everything I touch becomes hit with sadness.” The line met me in a way I couldn’t escape. My body got goosebumps combined with the smell of misery. There’s something about religion that we never dare speak of. As though the church was full of voices but none of them could hear me. The messages felt rehearsed.

Music had become a kind of prayer. It understood me more than people did. I wanted someone to reach me in and pull me into light. At the same time, I wished I could dissolve, leaving no trace. That pull in both directions lived in me. And when the songs ended, the blankness stayed.