Jaded, I started praying just like you wanted me too. God must be in your life. Vices remain but they won’t ever be the same again. Sunday’s we dread because we can’t get out of bed in time for Mary and Jesus. They don’t need us anyways. They’re playing tricks and games in our brains. Our human organs are sacrificed for religion. Please, I must be a sin. Murals from B.C, decades away from tragedy, remain on these church walls. No one has ever touched them at all. They give me chills and my spine spins upwards and downwards, believe me I’m not having an exorcism. I want to believe but how could I be forced to see these things? I want to plead so badly, so happily, so I won’t be stuck in the ground bound for eternity. If this is a hoax, this antidote keeping everyone sane is the biggest game someone’s ever played. Raged, we’ll be stuck here.