Selfish And Sinful

A deadlyish seven.

There are seven habits which have been termed the Seven Deadly Sins. Like so many things I once knew, the whole of them escapes me. I do however remember four, perhaps because these are my pets, the things which I, like many of Western society, have chosen to most always do.

The first, gluttony, is the reason our country is overweight, and it almost surprises me, even in my scientific knowledge of things, that the continent does not sink into the ocean from this. On more than one occasion I have been brought to tears because my own gluttony has hurt others in some way.

The second act is greed, which I attribute not to money, although I have had my share in that sort of diabolisis, but the greed of which I speak is more the greed of all things in excess. I have hoarded junk or money or men or food or drink and this could be gluttony but most certainly can also be greed.

Lust is the third act and groups with the aforementioned habits of overabundance even without it being slovenly or wanton.

The fourth act is sloth, that is to say, laziness in all forms.

What is it that compels me to these ends? I know not the answer to this, but it is something that has hurt me time and again, also hurt my friends, family, loved ones. When one partakes in too much of anything, be it called gluttony or greed or lust or even sloth, this one thing then consumes him or her. My heart is blackened and cracked from all that I have done and said and accomplished under these four heinous acts.

Even the tears I cry afterward in silent, dark and lonely corners are in and of themselves the very act of greed, that I would presume selfishly that grief and shame and guilt are mine alone to feel and to suffer. Have I not hurt others? Would they not benefit from seeing my reactions to what I have done? Would they not also be happier for it if only they too were allowed the tears and the feelings of their own to be let out?

I never have allowed anyone to feel anything. When I console others, I selfishly tell them I once felt worse, or I think it in my head; never have I been so kind as to let them feel how they feel.

Ani DiFranco–Girl, next time he asks you where the anger comes from, tell him the anger just comes; next time he asks what your problem is, tell him this time the problem’s his!

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