I spent most of my life in the church. Every Sunday, I was there. I never felt right sitting under those bleak cream walls on those cold pews. Those Sundays made me feel constrained, like being stuck inside on the coldest day of the year. It was permanently ingrained in my head to, “be a good Christian girl”, or “be on your best behavior, god is always watching.” Does god think I’m vain because he saw me stare at myself in the mirror too long? Am I going to hell, because I slept in the same bed as my significant other? What if I am jealous of Daisy; does that make me a bad person? I will never run away from the coldness of that church.