This is a Sin

She’s not a bad person. Really, she’s not. She just has a few…character flaws. Minor things. Okay, maybe they are sins. Only a few though, maybe 6 or 7. But that’s it. Honest…


It’s a sin that she seeks love in the places it won’t be found; like in the side effects of a pill, at the bottom of a bottle, or in a lewd stranger’s welcoming arms. Lust isn’t her temptation, but being alone can be dangerous and sometimes it’s necessary for someone to be with her.


Her bitterness is a sin. The ability to hold a grudge that was merely a scrape on her ego until it’s an open, festering wound on her soul is not a habit she can simply let go of. It’s too ingrained in her now. Wrath that burns like acid turns each of her thoughts into something poisonous, and whatever scab has tried to heal those minor cuts is melted by her angry, spiteful emotions until the hurts become gangrenous and infected.


Her failures are sins, and each one is a mockery that never quits teasing with vicious, pointing fingers. Despite the praise and encouragement she gives to her competitors who best her, in her heart, she truly envies them their success. If she were the one to succeed, those mockeries wouldn’t exist, and the inside of her head would be quiet and not so distracting.

Spending money on useless things to mentally increase her self-worth is a sin. She doesn’t need all those clothes or the piles of cosmetics that clutter her vanity, but as long as the presence of “stuff” eases her loneliness, it’s a sin she’ll commit again and again.

It’s a sin that she likes to own things. To say that something is hers. She doesn’t have a preference, a favorite object she likes to collect. No, no, no. Anything will do. In her head, she’s not greedy. Her actions, however, seem to dictate otherwise.


She’s not unwilling to take advantage of others, and this is a sin. If she finds herself in need and someone is able to offer a helping hand, she’ll grip that hand, pull hard, and drag it’s owner into the abyss with her so she can gluttonously use the thoughtful soul as a stepstool.


She tries. God, she tries so, so hard. But no matter how much alcohol she ingests or how many sleeping pills she takes, when she crashes into her messy bed at night she still ends up laying there and remembering. It’s a sin that she wants to forget. To grow deaf, dumb, and blind to memories of people, events, and meaningless encounters. It’s not just little bits and pieces of her past that she wants to lose, but her entire life. And that lack of caring, that heavy, apathetic sloth, is her greatest, most unforgivable sin.