It all started in elementary school. Those were some of the toughest years of my life. I was born as Jesús Montonez and lived in a neighborhood with a bunch of rich white kids. So, of course, they teased me. For some reason, they especially picked on me for my name. Instead of Jesús, they would call me Jesus; as in Jesus Christ. I absolutely hated it. I would cry and scream “That’s not my name!” but they didn’t care.

You know how people say if you hear something enough you’ll start to believe it? Well, it’s true. I started to believe that I was actually Jesus Christ. The more I thought about it, it was a compliment. Who wouldn’t wanna be somebody who performed tons of miracles and saved lives? I went from hating it to loving it. When I would go home, I would change out of my clothes and into a white sheet that I cut holes in for my arms and legs. Sometimes I would try to go to school dressed like that but my mom would yell at me. She always said “What’s wrong with you, Jesús? Do you really want those kids to keep making fun of you?”
I would get angry when she called me Jesús. I tried explaining to her that my name was Jesus Christ instead and she would simply put me in time out. After that, I began refusing to get haircuts and by the 5th grade, my hair was just as long as Jesus’ himself. I even began writing ‘Jesus Christ’ as my name on papers in class. My mom would get phone calls from school everyday. She told my doctor one day and after a series of questions regarding my identity, I was taken away. They locked me up in a mental institution and I was there for the next 20 years. I was seen by every single doctor there hundreds of times. They all gave up and realized nobody could help me. I remember repeatedly hearing “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. The man strictly believes that he is Jesus christ.”
I guess they decided that I wasn’t a threat to society because they released me eventually but, boy, were they wrong. I remember the day specifically. It was Easter; the day that Jesus Christ came back to life. I dressed in my nicest white sheet and sandals. I decided to go to church to celebrate. I thought everyone would be amazed to meet Jesus on Easter. When I arrived at the church everyone was acting normal. All of the women and children were wearing such nice clothes and sang along to all of the joyful songs. I received a few weird glances but I told myself those people were probably just in shock that Jesus was in their church. Everything was going just fine. That was, until, I saw Danny. He was one of the many kids that teased me in school. He was there with his son. I recognized him as soon as I saw him. I could never forget such a mean and taunting face. He noticed me as he was leaving after the service was over. As he passed me he chuckled and said “Hey, Jesus. Not much has changed, I see. Freak.”
I didn’t know what to say so I just faked a laugh and smiled. In reality, I was furious. It frustrated me more than words can explain. I followed him and his son out into the parking lot. They were parked right next to my van. All that was going through my mind was how badly he bullied me in school and how good it would feel to get payback. They were getting into their car. I said “Danny, can I ask you something,” and as he turned around I continued “Why’re you such an asshole?”
I punched him and he fell to the ground. His kid started screaming and crying. I began to panic. I grabbed the kid and pushed him into the back of my van, got into the driver's seat, and sped off. He was still screaming at the top of his lungs. In an attempt to drown out him out, I put my favorite Christian station on full blast and sang along. He managed to get even louder and yell “You’re not Jesus, your freak! Take me back to my dad!” over the music.
I did my best to ignore his harsh words but he only started screaming louder than what I thought was possible. “You’re not Jesus! You’re just crazy! Take me home!” he yelled through his tears.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to silence him. I slammed on the breaks, turned off the radio and jumped into the backseat. He was still kicking and screaming. I managed to hold him down and choke him. He began to kick harder and harder so I squeezed tighter and tighter. I didn’t stop until there was silence. Once he stopped and became lifeless, I laughed. I thought it was funny how the tables have turned. There was a point in my life where everybody was trying so hard to convince me that I was Jesus Christ. Now, I was being told that I wasn’t. On the day that Jesus came back to life, I realized that I was returning back to my own. It’s sad to think that I had to go through all of that just to regain my sanity. The moment of silence was short lived and overpowered by the sound of sirens. And with each and every siren, there was a realization to me... My name is Jesús Montonez.