That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name

To change a name, to morph shapes, letters; to twist semantics, to pry and bend and hammer at definitive syllables; to place vowels in their proper order - I have done these things to change one simple word marred by years of internal warfare and heartache, to weld the jagged edges and crescent moons into an opponent word so hideous in contrast, so heavy, even I, its Creator, could not have anticipated its influence. To call things by their right name. This connected the previously arbitrary blimps of hardly traceable disagreement between me and the religion I once claimed. Now I am one semi-circle, open to the ground beneath, curving inward and pouring downward on the right side until it drips into a single dot of embarrassing and self-proclaimed unbelief. In the bible-belt suburbia,  I have little time to toss my hands in the air in frustration before the protestant EMTs come rushing in to heal my scraped knee with morphine and a lobotomy. "I am a" meant nothing without "Christian" strapped to the end; when I walked away from "Christian," I walked away from the present, labeled it past, and carried the physiological shell of me into a Godless place I struggle to name "Reality," or "Hell." I am hesitant; changing a name changes everything.

Belief-O-Matic Quiz

1) Unitarian Universalism (100%)

2) Secular Humanism (97%)

3) Liberal Quakers (85%)

4) Neo-Pagan (74%)

5) Nontheist (73%)

6) Reform Judaism (67%)

7) Theravada Buddhism (67%)

8) Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestant (60%)

9) New Age (58%)

10) Bahai Faith (50%)