Diary Of A Teenage Christian Girl

Introduction

Christian | 'krisCHen |
adjective
relating to or professing Christianity or it's teachings: the Christian Church | the Christian faith is based upon the Bible.

noun
a person who received Christian baptism or is a believer in Christianity.

Christianity | ,krisCHē'anedē |
noun
the religion based on the person and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, or its beliefs and practices.
•Christian quality or character: his Christianity sustained him.

Christianity is today the world's most widespread religion, with more than a billion members, mainly divided between the Roman Catholic, Protestant, and Eastern Orthodox Churches. It originated among the Jewish followers of Jesus of Nazareth, who believed that he was the promised Messiah (or 'Christ'), but the Christian Church soon became an independent organization, largely through the missionary efforts of St. Paul. Most Christians believe in one God in three Persons (the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit) and that Jesus is the Son of God who rose from the dead after being crucified; a Christian hopes to attain eternal life after death through faith in Jesus Christ and tries to live by his teachings as recorder in the New Testament.

a/n: a subtle warning that this book will speak about Christianity and everything that goes along with it, please do not complain if some topics are iffy or make you uncomfortable. This is vivid real life, but otherwise...

Enjoy!

Diary of A Teenage Christian Girl

My life after eight years old, never fully made sense to me. I was always wanting more, craving more or needing more. There was an endless void within me, as if someone had taken a big chunk of my soul and stolen it.

At first, I didn't understand or even begin to fathom the reasons or causes for it. I assumed my parents divorce was the cause of it and that it would wash over in a couple months of living in a new city.

Johannesburg.

A beautiful city in South Africa drenched in culture and heritage.

As an eight year old girl, the loud, energetic city had me jumping on the balls of my feet and staring at everything around me with a curious and amazed gaze.

In some aspects I had compared Johannesburg to my soul; loud, clustered, frantic, brisk, colorful. All things an eight year old is accustomed to.

Then came the day I had to go to school. Believe it or not, I was quite fond of school and all its attributes. I entered the foreign school gates with enthusiasm and hopes of opening a new chapter of my life that had the potential to fill the void I felt inside my miniature body.

Walking into class, sitting at a seat and introducing myself was possibly the first rejection I'd ever felt, aside from my dad abandoning us; my mother and I.

The class was quiet, as if unsure of how to react to the revelation of who I was. The bell rang and the kids carried on like nothing had happened.

And then the teacher asked for somebody, anybody, to show me around and help me if needed.

Nobody put their hand up.

The teacher then randomly picked a child and instructed her to please watch for me, the girl agreed but not wholeheartedly.

I approached her, smoothening out my uniform and plastering a smile on my chocolate skin. "Hello." I'd said.

She abruptly stopped talking to her friends and looked at me in the most ridiculous way possible.

That was my third feeling of rejection.

She then proceeded to acting as if I wasn't standing beside her, hope in my heart and a bright smile on my face.

I walked off, feeling sad but not hopeless. I sat on the concrete corridor, eating my sandwich and watching other children play.

"Hello." An angel in my time of rejection and loneliness. I looked up at the silhouetted figure. "I'm Mia." She spoke.

I looked up and squinted at her before seeing her face and smiling back. "Hi!"

We became friends. She was loud and out going, while I was still the quiet, small town little girl. I had no issue with the way I was until one day she betrayed me.

The day I instilled my trust in her to keep my pocket money safe for me while I quickly went to play, was the first betrayal I'd experienced. I remember not crying or being angry, more than anything I was shocked and at a loss for words that the world was so cruel.

I walked off, unable to hear correctly, and sat in the library by myself where I discovered my passion for reading. For the rest of the year I traveled frequently to the library and expanded my vocabulary with reading and writing my own novels.