WITNESS
Sarah / Park City, UT / 6.12.26 Forgive me, internet, for I have sinned. I’m 18, raised in a very intense religious household where everything was either holy or demonic. Pokémon was demonic. Energy drinks were demonic. Skinny jeans were apparently demonic. One time my youth pastor said the Wii was “an open doorway to spiritual attack.” Anyway. When I was 15, I became completely convinced that God was sending me signs through my microwave clock. Every night it would randomly say things like 11:11 or 3:33 and I took this VERY seriously. I bought a notebook and started documenting the “messages.” I called it “The Numerical Prophecies.” For almost six months I believed I was being spiritually prepared for some kind of divine mission. I even made coded charts connecting Bible verses to microwave timestamps. Looking back, I was basically doing conspiracy theory algebra in my bedroom. The worst part is that I eventually told my church youth group about it during testimony night. I stood in front of like 40 people explaining how the microwave was “possibly being used as a vessel for heavenly communication.” I was crying. People were crying. One adult leader put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “The Spirit is moving.” Then my little sister raised her hand and said: “You know the microwave timer is broken, right?” Turns out the clock reset itself every time someone slammed the kitchen door too hard. That was it. That was the prophecy. To this day I cannot look at a digital clock that says 11:11 without feeling spiritually and emotionally concussed. Anyway thank you for hearing my confession.
Jameson / Porterstown, MA / 5.08.26 I’m 42 years old. Married 17 years. Two kids. Church every Sunday. Led prayer before dinner. Volunteered at vacation Bible school. The kind of man people describe as “solid.” And for the last eight months, I’ve been having an affair with a woman from my office. I wish I could say it started with passion or temptation or some dramatic moment, but honestly it started because she listened to me. That’s the part I hate admitting most. Not the hotel rooms. Not the lying. Not even the fact that I deleted text messages while sitting in the church parking lot. It was the feeling of being seen. My wife and I had become roommates somewhere along the line. We talked about groceries, bills, dentist appointments, whose turn it was to pick up our son from baseball practice. I convinced myself that because the marriage felt dead, my vows somehow counted less. Then this woman laughed at one of my stupid jokes during a late meeting and suddenly I was staying at work an extra hour every night. At first I kept telling myself it wasn’t physical, so it wasn’t really cheating. Then it became “We’re just talking.” Then “It’s only texting.” Then “This is the last time.” There are apparently hundreds of tiny moral lines a person can cross before they finally realize they’ve become someone they used to judge. Last month my daughter asked me during breakfast if I still loved Mom. I answered too quickly. Too loudly. Like a guilty person does. And ever since then I feel sick every time I walk through my own front door. The woman from work told me I deserve happiness. My pastor preached last Sunday about hidden sin destroying the soul. My wife still kisses me goodbye every morning. And I honestly don’t know which part of my life is real anymore. I used to think bad people ruined their families. Now I think regular people do it every day, one selfish decision at a time. I haven’t confessed this to anyone until now. But I think deep down I already know: the affair isn’t the worst thing I did. The worst thing was becoming comfortable lying to someone who trusted me completely.
J. Bean / Northeast, USA / 7.10.26 My first awakening was the crucifixion. As a child growing up in the church, the only nudity I viewed was in Bible stories - Adam and Eve, the crucifixion, etc. What we have now referred to as the PASSION of the Christ was so compelling to me, that at the age of about 7 I was stirred in a way I did not understand. The power dynamic, the physical imagery, and the idea that someone would WANT TO DO THAT.... I was never told what masochism was, but this was my first experience. The suffering of others holds no such interest to me now, but every time I see a crucifix, I am reminded that my most genuine connection to it was sexual.
Phillip / Wasteland, USA / 8.20.26 I'm an Ex-Evangelical that has gone through years of therapy and deconstruction. I have a really hard time letting go of all the hatred and bitterness in my heart towards those that caused me so much turmoil and damage, including my family. I believe in loving all people, but I still haven't gotten over it and secretly have this hatred I can't let go of, which leaves me feeling ashamed. I don't want to hate anyone, but it's buried deep down inside me. Thank you for everything, Eleventyseven and Starterpacts has been a major healing lifeline for me over the years , even when I had no one else I could turn to. In my lowest lows when I was just hanging on by a thread, I could at least get in my car and drive around for hours listening to Rad Science and for a moment I wouldn't feel so alone. Every album after that topped the previous album and gave me more confidence and some feeling of control in my life. Maybe one day I'll get to a place where I can let all that hate go and move on.
