My Jesus has a middle initial.

In the beginning, God created the Earth in six days, and rested on the seventh. He created man, called him Adam, and from him created woman, who he named Eve. God hoped they would act as he would, and placed them in the Garden of Eden. He gave them one rule, and that was not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. However, a serpent tricks Eve, and so both of them eat the forbidden fruits. They hide from God, knowing they have disobeyed him, and are ultimately banned from the garden.

As a child, I was brought up a Methodist. My father attempted to read a passage from the Bible every night. However, we didn't actually get much further than Genesis. I continued to believe in God up to the point of my freshman year of high school, where my faith crumbled. A lot of the things I was being taught didn't make sense to me, and I was having a really hard time believing that this Jesus guy was all he was cracked up to be. Additionally, I saw a lot of prejudice within my religion, something I, at one point, bought into because I thought it was what was supposed to happen.

And I was wrong.

Currently, I believe in my own Jesus. I talk to him frequently. I don't pray, I talk. When I need guidance through something, I have something I like to call "Jesus Time." Jesus Time is a moment I take out of my day to discuss something with my friend in the sky. Most recently, it has been about whether or not I get vosotros in my Spanish class, or the kid that annoys me the most skips class that day. I'm proud to say both happened last week. Jesus and I do this thing where we make bets, predictions, and life decisions based on karma. If I get vosotros, the child who I will call Ronaldo goes boating on Friday. If I don't, I rejoice in the fact that I am NOT failing that Spanish quiz.
I am not a Christian, I am not a Jew, I am not a Catholic. I am an Olivia. And this Olivia has her own relationship with her own Jesus who has absolutely nothing to do with God's Jesus.