The alarm infiltrates my mind,
forcing my eyes to open.
I try to ignore its demands,
but the better me wins and I rise out of bed.
Decisions.
A prayerbook. A rosary.
A smartphone. A PC.
Now is the moment to decide.
Now determines my—
…with smartphone in hand, I
proceed to the kitchen.
Tommy said this! Billy shared
that! Sue posted this!
And my prayerbook and rosary
lie unattended.
No worries; just a few moments
more, and I can pray to my God.
In the shower my smartphone
plays music for me while I think of my day ahead.
Such a wonderful device; it
has everything I need in life.
And much, much more.
Just a few more moments, and I
can pray to my God.
The car is impatiently waiting
for me to arrive, its engine sputtering while I gather all my books.
All but one book, that is.
Just a few more moments, and I
can pray to my God.
In class, I focus intently
upon ways to better the world and impress with my knowledge.
In class, I focus intently on
the cute girl in front of me.
After class, I focus intently
on the bitterness from past wrongs.
And justify each and every
action done by me.
Of course she deserved those
harsh words.
Of course he deserves my
hatred.
Of course it is my right to do
what is not right.
Why should I forgive? It is
not like someone ever forgave me for my wrongs. No one died for me.
Just a few more minutes, while
I pray to my god.
My god told me my body is
imperfect. Lose weight.
Yes, dear lord.
My god told me I don’t have
enough friends.
Yes, my master.
My god told me I’m pathetic
for not having a girlfriend.
Yes, my savior.
Look, says my god; Gaze upon
those friends of yours with perfect, happy lives. It is written in Social
Media: thou shalt conform into the image of the Plastic. Thou shalt not allow
any Creator to direct and lead you into what you were meant to be.
Not now, I’m reading from my
god’s scriptures.
And god said let us be
shallow. And god said let us be self-righteous. And god said let us be hateful
and bigoted and selfish and greedy and arrogant and boastful and independent
from all and deceptive and dependent upon all and cut down others and worship
those who make us feel pathetic and be with those we lust after and lust after
those we cannot be with and gossip and trust only ourselves and compare
ourselves to all and judge all and make ourselves our own gods in our own
images…images stitched together on the envy and bitterness we soak in each
passing moment…
…without even realizing it.
...
The end of the day.
Life is horrible. I want to
die.
Oh look. A razor.
It would be easy. How many
friends have better bodies, better hair, better lives than your pathetic self?
You’d be doing the world a favor. Just make sure the blood drains in the tub,
so your roommates don’t have to clean the floor.
The razor in hand. My life in
my hand.
Oh look. A book.
I remember that book from this
morning. And what a pretty piece of jewelry. Cheap, but…there is something
about it…
And the memories reinhabit the
forefront of my consciousness.
Love.
Joy.
Peace.
My soul has long been
suffering.
“Almighty and most merciful
Father; We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have
followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended
against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have
done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there
is no health in us. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders.
Spare thou those, O God, who confess their faults. Restore thou those who are
penitent; According to thy promises declared unto mankind In Christ Jesus our
Lord. And grant, O most merciful Father, for his sake; That we may hereafter
live a godly, righteous, and sober life, To the glory of thy holy Name. Amen.”
With every tear that falls
from my face, every stain of my self-destruction is destroyed. The razor is
clenched in my hand, blood dripping from a tiny cut. The only blood spilled
from my body for these sins.
Irritated and red, my eyes
look up to the crucifix on my wall.
No Blood was shed in
bitterness that day. No Flesh demanded to be healed. All for Love. All for…me.
I close my prayerbook, and
hold my rosary in my bloody hand.
