Throughout my entire adolescent life, each of my families has been religious. My biological parents, the few things I do remember, is they had crosses decorating the walls, now, if they were for religious purpose, or purely decoration, I do not know. My second family, well… I don’t think it was so much a family or more to the effect of, a woman terrorizing a small child, I heard her say once, “God has given us this child to protect our way of living, to give us salvation.” So, they believed I was the Savior. My third family, they tried to fix me, fix what was broken, I was the damned, the un-saveable child, so I guess in a way you could say they were trying to save the Savior. When I was small, all of these people, forced it on me, but not in a learning environment, more so, in the I am the only thing keeping them afloat, the only thing saving them from going to hell. Now, the second family, I was the Savior, I was the one to fix all of the wrongs, all of the things bad in their world. The third one, I was their salvation. If they saved me, they would be saved from eternal damnation. Now, I am not saying I don’t believe, or I have turned the entire idea off. There might be a god, there might be something beyond, but I have decided, with all of the shit I have been though, everything that has happened to me, there might not be. Because if he cared so much, he would have defended a defenseless child. Even so, I don’t think it matters, because either way, we are all on our own.