So this is about my experience as a “pious” Christian. lol.
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“Alright Mary you can go with Sister Evelyn to apartment 3A.”
Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum
My heart is racing.
I pray no one answers.
I pray its someone I don’t know.
Pretty sure God doesn’t hear on this one, why would he?
I just want this to be over.
How can i be expected to save others when I am so far from being saved?
Scriptures in hand, presentation memorized ready to be repeated verbatim.
Evelyn knocks on the door.
Three LOUD knocks, sadly, guaranteed to be heard.
We wait. She tells me briefly about how moving this morning’s daily scripture was.
I pretend I read it. She’s impressed by my answer.
They’re all so easy to fool.
They all think I’m perfect. A saint.
I am THE Virgin Mary.
They don’t know the half of it.
The don’t know how I spend Fridays dreading Saturday service and my Saturdays dreading Sunday mornings.
How every response is calculated. Thought over.
I have to keep up the act.
Long skirt, bottom down blouse.
When the guys talk to me I bat my eyes.
Virgin turned temptress?
What can I say, I’m bored.
These scriptures bore me.
These people bore me.
They annoy me.
They’re so damn fake.
But then again, I guess I am too.
I can say I hate them, but then again I hate me too.
I hate that I have to put up this act to please others.
I hate how they all have these beaming faces, so sure of salvation.
Maybe I’m bitter because in every private moment I’m closer to eternal damnation.
Abomination.
Thats what my mother calls me at home because she knows.
She knows I’m far from holy but its okay.
My secrets safe.
As long as everyone else thinks I’m perfect, its okay.
Evelyn has finished her third round of knocking now.
Its time to leave.
No one opened the door.
Guess something out there in the universe heard me.
Not sure if I even want to know who.