Sinners & Saints

22:20

I am not here to speak of my sins;

I am not here to expose my past;

I am not here to prove my atonement.

I am not here to preach. To tell you not to wear a lipstick that deep a red or to tone down that confident manner that makes hands shake and voices tremble.

Nor am I here to rake a critical eye up and down your body with the notion that you are a product of your mistakes.

We are not cut from the same cloth; my stitches are flawed slightly differently to yours but they are flawed all the same. I guess we are all unstitching at our own pace.

I am not here to tell you that right and wrong are two sides of a coin and you can only ever land on heads or tails. I am not here to view life through a black-and-white filter.

The lines blur from time to time and you are just walking in a different shade of grey to me.

I am not here to lay the pebbles down, to force you to walk down the one and only street that I call the straight and narrow.

Maybe we're just using different maps and I'll see you on the other side.

I am not here to scorn the young lad who's in the club every Friday, drunk until he can't remember his name.

Maybe he stumbles into his lonely room at 5am and despite the alcohol clouding his thoughts, begs through ragged breaths for God to forgive him, wondering if he can find redemption in the darkness.

But even stars can be found in the darkest of skies.

I am not here to think any less of the girl whose hands can be found entwined with someone for whom she is not meant.

Maybe the guilt is her life's dose of poison, leaching away at her insides until it turns to rot.

And maybe it's why she spends her nights curled up on the floor, begging the heavens for a way out of her mess.

I am not here to sit on a self-carved pedestal, to believe that my journey is more fulfilling and right than anyone else's.

Because maybe broken hearts and broken faith have a tendency to spill more sincere prayers than my holy lips.
Maybe I am guilty of wearing the face of a saint and clutching tight in closed fists the heart of a sinner...

And maybe what I deem worthy or unworthy is insignificant when it could be equally unworthy or worthy in the eyes of the One who matters.

I am not here to walk this earth an angel.

I am here to fall and to get back up, to fall yet again and to get back up again...

I am here to be human in all the ways it means to be human.

Kauser

Part-time blogger, full-time scientist, and lifetime Liverpool fan. Follow me as I document my life, from uni woes, to the chaos of adulthood, and every other awkward moment in-between that is part and parcel of being a socially introverted twenty-something year old.