The Christian mindset runs on a kind of dualistic schizophrenia, where everything is split into extremes—good or evil, saved or damned, God or Satan—with no middle ground to rest in. This creates a fractured way of thinking, where the believer is constantly flipping between euphoria and terror. One moment they're convinced they're chosen and loved, the next they're riddled with guilt, fearing they've angered God or fallen under demonic influence. Every feeling is over-interpreted, every thought scrutinized—is it divine inspiration or temptation? The result is a chaotic mental state that can't settle, can't rest, because it’s always bouncing between opposite poles. There's no space for uncertainty, only the pressure to force every experience into this rigid black-and-white system. It's not spiritual clarity—it’s a controlled split in the psyche.

God loves you. But He might throw you into a lake of fire forever. You're saved—unless you mess up. Then you're not. Everything's a test, a sign, a warning, a miracle. You're chosen. You're worthless. You're washed clean. You're filthy with sin. He speaks to you. Or maybe it's Satan. You feel peace—but is it false peace? Better repent just in case. You're forgiven, but not if you enjoy it too much. Heaven is waiting, but you're never good enough for it. You can’t breathe without wondering if God’s watching, and if He is, is He smiling or sharpening the knife?

It’s a mind that tears itself in two and calls it faith. Every joy is shadowed by fear, every doubt chased by panic. One voice says you're loved; the other whispers you're damned. You call that voice God, but it never stops accusing you. Your thoughts aren't your own—they're temptations, tests, or divine whispers. You're constantly decoding reality like it's a threat. You smile through gritted teeth, clinging to grace while looking over your shoulder for hell. It's not devotion. It's a constant psychotic episode praised as holiness.

Christianity attracts those who lack the intellectual courage to face reality's moral complexity, offering them a childish fairy tale where daddy-God sorts everyone into neat piles of good and bad. This primitive worldview appeals to people who would rather cling to simplistic categories than develop the mental sophistication needed to understand that evil and good exist within every human being, including themselves.

The religion serves as a psychological crutch for those too frightened to acknowledge their own darkness, instead projecting all their feared impulses onto convenient scapegoats like Satan or "the unsaved." Christians flee from self-examination into the comforting delusion that they're fundamentally different from those they condemn, terrified of discovering that they're capable of the same cruelty and selfishness they claim to oppose. This cowardly refusal to integrate their shadow creates stunted personalities who mistake moral posturing for actual virtue, living in constant fear of the very human complexity they've spent their lives desperately trying to escape.