I remember laying in bed on Sunday morning every week thinking that it would be the day my mom came in and told me we weren’t going to church anymore. I was only 6 or 7.

I remember telling a bishopric member that I vaguely understood what the Law of Chastity is in a temple recommend interview and him explaining it in detail afterwards. I was only 12.

I remember finding out someone I admired had left the church for all the same reasons I was doubting the church, and it really threw me. I was only 15.

I remember searching the scriptures frantically, trying to find a “why” for homosexuality being a sin. I was still only 15. It was the same week.

I remember thinking that if a simple song could shake my faith in my church so hard, maybe I didn’t really want to be a part of that church anymore. I was only 16.

I remember almost kissing a girl at girl’s camp, and the only reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want her to ruin my life. I was only 17.

I remember coming down south for college and feeling so alone and unwanted that I suddenly understood why people left when nobody would talk to them. How do you feel the love of God when all you can think of is “why doesn’t anyone want to sit with me?” I was only 18.

I’m only 20 and yet I have a lifetime of experiences roving to me that while I love the gospel? I don’t love the church. It has proved time and time again that it does not want me or people like me. We saw that with Prop8. We saw it with BYU. We see it all the time.

Someone once told me that of all the queer LDS members he’d spoken to, the ones he wasn’t worried about were the ones who had a good relationship with God. Whether they stayed or left, he wasn’t worried about them.

There’s no point to this thread, so you can ignore it if you’d like, but I just had to put these thoughts somewhere that isn’t my head.