I don’t even know why I’m typing this really, like, it feels kinda dumb but also I can’t tell anyone else, obviously. It’s about – well it’s about everything, I guess. Like, I’m supposed to be this super devout guy, right? The one all the younger kids look up to, the one who leads the prayers and kinda knows all the answers. My parents, they’re so proud. My dad always says I have a ‘good head on my shoulders’ for spiritual stuff. And I DO, I really do try. I believe in a lot of it, most of it, I think. But then there’s this other stuff, this BIG other stuff, and it’s like a whole different me that no one knows about and if they did I’d be SO screwed. It started a while ago, maybe when I was like 13? I kinda stumbled onto some videos about philosophy, just like, random stuff on YouTube, you know? And then I got into art, like really weird art, kinda dark sometimes. And books. OH MY GOD the books. I started buying them, like, hiding them under my bed, going to the library downtown where no one from my community ever goes. And it’s not even bad stuff, not like, evil or anything. It’s just... different. It questions things. It makes you think about stuff in a way that sometimes makes the stuff I’m supposed to believe feel really small, or kinda… fake? That’s a terrible word but it’s the only one that kinda fits how it feels sometimes. Like a stage play where I’m just pretending my lines. And it’s gotten worse. Like, a lot worse. Last week, we had this big youth group meeting, and I was up front, leading the discussion on this scripture passage about faith and obedience. And I was talking, and everyone was nodding, and my pastor looked really pleased. But inside my head, I was thinking about this essay I read by some old dead guy, Kant or something, about how we make our own meaning. And I was thinking about this street art I saw last time I was in the city, this incredible mural that made me feel more – I don’t know – more ALIVE, I guess, than any sermon ever has. And I’m standing there, saying all the right words, doing all the right actions, and I feel like such a fraud. A COMPLETE fraud. I spend my afternoons studying scripture and leading youth activities, and my nights, like right now, I’m on my laptop, reading some intense novel or watching some indie film that my parents would probably ban from the house if they knew. Or just listening to music that’s so far from the hymns we sing on Sundays. It’s like living two different lives, and the gap between them is getting wider and wider and I feel like I’m gonna fall into it. Or worse, someone’s gonna see me, see BOTH of me, and then what? It’s not just about my reputation, it’s about my family, my whole future. Everyone just expects me to go to seminary, get married to a nice girl from our community, become a leader. And sometimes I want that, I really do. But then I think about all these books, all this art, and I just feel… trapped. And ashamed. So much shame. I dunno what to do. There’s no one to talk to about this. My friends, they’re all like me, or at least they pretend to be. If I said anything, it would be over. Everything. My parents, they just wouldn’t understand. They’d think I was losing my faith, or worse, just being rebellious. It’s not that, not really. It’s just… it’s like there’s a whole universe out there I never knew about, and now that I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it. And trying to pretend I haven’t is just… it’s exhausting. And lonely. So unbelievably lonely.