SINFUL- INTRO

*fictional characters, fictional plot/ real issues*

ZERO.

I hate this place.

It's ungodly.


The linoleum floors, ugly and harsh on our soles, the fluorescent lights glared down on us, more importantly me, as if I sinned, wronged. And now my fate is to burn in the spotlight; made by the nasty yellowish glow of unforgiving, old bulbs.

The water sprayed down at me, and while I was underneath the nozzle, I acted out my own personal baptism, washing out unholy thoughts. Refusing to breathe, water directly in my face, immersed in this water that would cleanse out my wandering, disobedient eyes to other stalls.


Is this a Sin?

I ask myself this question everyday.

Whilst in my bed before I closed my eyes awaiting fitful sleep.
Upon waking up to sticky sheets, tinted pink cheeks and me cursing my body, my mind.
After eating over prayed food; prayer addressed to the very Entity they swore hated me.
Whilst doodling in the corners of homework assignments or slivers of my skin.
Whilst gazing into his eyes, feeling the tingling in the deepest recesses of my stomach, the pit of my heart, asking myself am I wrong?

Long ago, I once tiptoed in my Mother's bedroom and gently roused her from her sleep. Mother, I spoke. She smiled down at me, her beautiful but tired eyes glimmering and red from sleep. I asked her quietly about love. Does it happen to anybody and everybody? She patted to the space next to her and beckoned me to lay. Honey, love is inescapable. Love has that ability to touch the darkest of hearts. Of course it could happen to everyone. I nodded intensely for a couple of moments, then spoke delicately. Can love ever be wrong? She rolled her eyes at me and poked my nose with playful taps. Love is pure, Sammy. Relief washed over me and soon, the bated breath I had forgot I was holding escaped my lungs and I was free to inhale again.

But it was a false sense of security.

Shutting off the water, I quickly hide my body with a towel; disappearing in camouflage of cotton. I fixate my gaze on the floor, and not to the unashamedly naked bodies that mill around.

And as the bile and lust bubbles in my stomach, I pray, pray, pray that my Lord doesn't hate me as much as I hate myself now.