I was sitting in church one Sunday afternoon, and I was suddenly overcome with a desire to turn around during Sacrament Meeting to view the congregation.
All I saw was a bunch of pallid, green-faced zombies, dead to the world.
It was that moment which turned out to be the beginning of the end of my church going.
It was what I felt.
I didn't want to be like them, so I knew I had to leave.
In fact, I had to leave, before it was too late.
It was actually a long process before I left the Mormon Church, but I have not regretted it.
Recently, I made a facebook post about my views concerning Jesus Christ, just making a joke of it all.
One of my brothers didn't like my comments about two months ago, and I have not heard from him since.
I mean, who cares what I think about Jesus Christ? Religion is all made-up, anyhow.
Anyway, the memory of seeing all those Mormon Zombies lingers on inside me, like a lurking terror.
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