Guilt Trip

Disclaimer: This is fictional

I was seated on my bed late last night, sunken deep in thoughts, wondering ‘How did I get here and where was I headed?’

Somehow, I have adopted the belief to blame myself when things go wrong in my life, and I have many places to point fingers at.

Say I don't get a gig I hoped and worked for, it could be because last week I had sex. Or I fail a test I was expecting to ace, then it must have been the awful things I said to Rachel yesterday in anger.

Many are my reasons because I was groomed as a child, by a tape my mother played often about ‘Sin and its consequences’. According to the preacher, no sin goes without retribution.

But for two weeks, I have neither had physical nor social media contact with a soul, I have not left the house, not responded to any calls, not interacted with anyone, I have neither had sex nor wanked myself to pleasure, and as best as I know, I have engaged my mind constantly with literature from authors such as Anton Chekhov, staying clear of anything that might spark my eroticism.

So when I sat on my bed last night, musing, I wondered also of what sin I was being punished for. What sin had caused my rejection from three high-paying jobs? What sin had led to the option of being either a debtor or starving? What sin did I commit to make every eye blind to my art so no one can patronize me? What sin has made me lonely and loveless, with not a shoulder to lean on?

I contemplated deeply like I would the five mysteries of the rosary, I retraced and relieved my life, as best as I could, for two weeks, and though no fish can say it has never met water, I confirmed that in two weeks, I had been spotless of sin.

Why was God punishing me then?

Like a good Christian, I was brought up to be, I have knowledge of God’s words and one of them is ‘your ways are not mine, and neither are your thoughts’.

So I figured, that though I may think myself spotless, he may have spotted something after all.

I stood on my knees then, with bowed head and a confused mind and I rendered a prayer to God, asking for his mercy and forgiveness.

I always imagined my life to be like a movie with a happy ending, so after my prayer, I went straight to my email, refreshing the inbox and spam folder. There was not a mail I hadn't opened before then and none held the congratulations I hoped for.

Next, I figured I'd give God some time to work and check back the next morning. I was lucky to be able to sleep without dreaming of the possibilities of getting employed by tomorrow, but when tomorrow arrived, it was all I dreamed about.

Refreshing my emails almost every hour and checking my spam least I miss something.

I expected a happy ending, I needed one, and to my belief, I deserved one, but how is expectation supposed to carry out the perfect kill if it doesn't first make you hopeful?

I'm sitting on my bed again tonight, no idea of what sin I may have committed, no idea of what to do, and no happy ending. Yet.