Suppression

Ok, so once upon a time an old friend asked me if I ever suppress myself because I’m Catholic.

And in retrospect I’m like:

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Uh.

No.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been that crazy one in like every. single. friend group.

I still remember the look on my best friend’s face when I woke up one weekend in the spring (or fall?) and was like: IMMA GET A FIFTH PIERCING!!!

I tended to go through these cycles of frustration/friskiness like once a semester and it inevitably ended in red hair or piercings or whitewater rafting or something.

I have a fatal desire to try everything once in life.

Except certain sins of the past.

UGH.

UGH UGH UGH.

Nope, no thank you.

These days, I’m the crazy one dating a man on another continent.

Because the thing about being Catholic is, it’s just a big messy church of all kinds of people.

Gays, straights, black, brown, white, and red all over…

Statistically, there’s one billion of us.

I’m technically a minority in the U.S.

But being Catholic is really just like being nondenom 2.0.