I walk through the doors and immediately they slap a name tag on me. Already I've been labeled. What if I wanted to be seen as The Amazing Jo instead of just "hey, I'm Jo?" Being average, I mean, who wants that? But I walk in these doors and they assume they know me better for my name. All they really see is a label, a mask I wear that was given to me. And they don't look any further than that.

I walk in the foyer and immediately the greeters swarm me. They paste smiles on their faces, and concerned, they shake my hand. Already I've been damned, in their eyes. They must save me. What if I don't want to be pitied? Is this what I get for seeking the answer? But I walk into the foyer and they assume I'll never really change. All they see is a boy in need of a god — a god thrown at me since childhood. And they don't look any further than that.

I walk deeper into the church, into their place of worship. They seat me in the visitors section, so that the pastor knows where to look when he's making a point. Already I've been grouped. What if I don't want to be just another face in a sea of pagans, all the same to them? How do they know I'm just like that guy, that girl? But I walk in to listen, and they don't let me speak... it turns out listening wasn't a choice, anyway. All they see is a lost soul, one that I tossed away long ago when my life became more than I bargained for. And they don't look any further than that.

I've gone as far as I can here. I sing their songs, though I don't understand them, and listen to their complicated parables. And while I genuinely try to find the answer, already I'm lost and I've given up. Don't they know I'm dying to find a purpose for this life? What if I pass it by? Your words go through me but that's all they do. So I stay here, for now, and all I see is this mask of holiness. And I don't look any further than that.