perfectly imperfect

            Good. Better. Best.

            Bad. Worse. Worst.

            Hmm. I believe that we are born sinners. As what I can recall from our dear Bible, the human race have started when good old Eve was convinced by the snake to take a bite from the fruit (apple?) or whatever fruit you may call it… then we humans started to multiply.

            Yup, we all sin. Nobody has not ever done something bad in his entire life. Even the Pope had committed sins, I bet. I believe that nobody has ever been so holy in his entire life.

            I’ve always been a bad girl ever since. When I was a kid, I recall having the doctors sew my sister’s head for the reason that I pushed her off our bed because we fought over a box of colored pencils. Once, I also made her have a haircut (even if she didn’t want to) because I stucked up a toy mixer onto her hair and my mom couldn’t really remove it.

            When I was in elementary, I slapped my seatmate for no reason at all. I mean, I don’t really know why I did that. All I can recall was during that moment; I just wanted to slap somebody. So I did. My seatmate (Gerald was the name) cried but I didn’t care. And this one time, I can also recall, I intentionally put my foot on the way of my classmate. So he ended up stumbling in front of me. He, (Erickson, this time) also cried but I pretended that nothing happened.

           

            At those two times, I ended up being scolded by our old teacher. It felt so bad to be nagged in front of the class but I didn’t care. But you know what? The only good thing about those incidents was that the news of my being a real bad girl in school weren’t able to reach my parents’ knowing.

 

            Okay. I am not a bully or something. I just felt like doing those things at those moments. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone or make someone cry. Believe me. Whenever I see a classmate crying because of me, I feel this sting within and I partly regret what I did. But it was always too late to take my actions back. I didn’t want to be mean. I just wanted to have fun. But I always ended up being mean anyway.

 

            Anyhow, those are childish stuff. I am 19 now and I can say that I already have this deeper sense of maturity in me. I mean, I already dropped doing those dire things to my classmates and all because I’m not supposed to keep doing silly acts at this age.

 

            But you know, as we grow older, we always have this tendency to develop the deeper, meaner, and darker sides of our personalities. And heck, yeah, I am normal!  So I also do have this other Camille inside of me that I bet, no one would ever like to see or meet.

 

            I sin a lot. I hate a lot.  I curse a lot.

 

            I don’t like people wanting to block my way or meddle with my life and all. I abhor hypocrites and those people who have this “SIM card” personalities. I mean those people who always wanted to fit in and “insert” themselves so they could be in-the-know of just about anything and everything that happens around them– even if they have absolutely nothing to do with those things. Talk about stupid people. *swish

 

            I am not so holy—NOT really holy, or religious or whatever you may call it.

 

            I don’t go to church. I don’t hear mass. I’ve hated priests since I was a child. I despise them because they always acted as if they were the holiest bunch of bastards in this world. Well, I don’t know. I don’t know much about them. I am not an atheist or something. I’m just not so convinced by the Catholic Church. But yeah, I know God and I’m a believer of Him… just not the church part of being a Catholic.

 

            I figured. Since God is omnipresent, He could hear me talking to Him at anytime of the day—wherever I may be. I don’t see it necessary to go to church, walking on my knees to ask for repentance and salvation and promising not to sin again. Heck! For me, the church is so full of wooden statues that had those spooky marble eyes and seemed to be watching over my movements all the time. They scare the hell out of me. Really.  I don’t even know if all those saints would look the same if I ever I see them in person. So that’s why I don’t go to church to hear mass. I’m good with praying all by myself.

 

            I wish a lot… for other people to disappear from the face of this Earth because they don’t do me any good. I wish for them to suffer, to succumb miserably to fatal diseases, to meet terrible accidents…

 

            I wish that they could all die for being mean to me and for giving me nothing but pain. For leaving me during the times that I most needed them. For stabbing me millions of times on my back. For taking away things that are supposed to be mine. For making me cry. For making me suffer the pain that almost crushed my insides and left me broken each day. For making my life miserable while I was with them. For bringing the hell—the worst out of me.

 

            Pain. All those agonizing experiences almost killed me. It made want to die. To give up… to make the pounding of my heart just stop. They made me want to disappear. But see? I am STRONGER now and a lot better than what I was when they were still with me. And hell I figured, why should I make my life more miserable when I can instead make theirs? So everyday, I wish that all those people who’ve damaged me would live a wretched life. I don’t care about them. I want them to die!

 

            I know it’s all too bad to wish for someone to disappear or die. But sometimes, at certain moments, I wish to gather up all the guts in my system to make someone die… using my own hands. But I was always too yellow about it.

 

            I’ve counted. Honestly, for three times already, I’ve plotted to kill three people—an uncle, another family member, and a former lover. I mean, I’ve thought about how I would bring them to the gates of Lucy and all and how I would dispose their lifeless bodies so that I could come out clean of my crime.

 

            I thought of maybe pretending that I would hug them and when my arms were already wrapped around them, I would bring out my knife and just stab them to death. I think that would be sweet because of the ‘embrace’ part. Or maybe putting poison onto their food or pushing a pillow on their faces while they were asleep so they would pass out of air and wake up no-more. After that, maybe I would chop their bodies and throw the parts to different places or I would just burn their houses down so no one would know that they were murdered.

 

            Yeah, those thoughts were really evil. Really. And though those three people who happened to top my ‘hate list’ are still alive, it also makes me glad that I’ve always controlled myself at those times that I SO wanted to kill them. For Chrissake! I don’t want to wash my hands with their blood because their blood stinks.

 

            Okay, enough of my evil side. This composition is getting too long and I might bore the hell out of you. Anyway, I’m just being honest here. You can judge me if you like, I don’t care. You also have your own dark side and I can also judge you as I read yours and you couldn’t do anything about it. *peace!

 

“He who has not sinned cast the first stone!”

– from somewhere in the Bible :p

Advertisement