In Sin's Den

Solomon prayed for wisdom, but I don't think I need any more wisdom. I don't mean that I am a genius, but I'm fine where I am at. I'm fine, losing my wallet every once in a while. I'm fine, getting over-charged at Joy Yee Plus. I'm fine, losing arguments and predictions. Instead, I pray for faith to endure. It's what I need the most. Because right now, every open crevice of my heart gets filled with hate.

Today, I saw the den of sin. It was beautiful. And it should be beautiful because it costed families.  And for many moments, I envied the den, every square foot, inch, and centimeter. Everything about that den was beautiful, luxurious, and unimaginable. But I was also very afraid. Because sin is such a short-term pleasure. It is such an intense short-term pleasure, that I am afraid of its temptations. But besides the hate in my heart, the words I shouldn't say, I have greed. I want luxury in this short-term life. I want all those gorgeous things. So I desperately pray for strength. Right now, I don't even have enough faith in myself to make a solemn promise. My heart is much weaker now. I've become scum.

And I want people to be able to see God in me. I want a forgiving heart, a sincere mouth, a caring ear, observant eyes-- I want all those things that would make me the best servant I can be. After a full day of internet disconnection, I've had the time for more consideration. And now that I've calmed down, that beautiful house isn't that great. All their riches doesn't make them wealthy. And I should recommend no one to work for them as I should invite those to church instead. Do I bring my pagan friends in front of buckets of gold and tell them to give that up for something they can't see? I'm afraid that I'm not convincing enough. Satan is powerful with his spectacles and material goods, but Jesus is almighty. So give me strength, for I am still weak. Strength to not greed, not steal, not deceive, not hate, not covet, not plot evil.

If I am

I am really ashamed. I should get struck by lightning, land on a pile of poop and drown in it. And that would be a decent death. If everything I do is because of my family, and everything my family does is all because of me, then I should get stomped on by a stampede of elephants.

I feel really ashamed. It wasn't even something I did, yet I feel like crying. I feel regretful and sorry. I feel stupid and ugly. God, I wish these bad feelings away like they were a bad cold. I wish these bad feelings away like they were cancer, like they were a tumor, a cyst, a 6th toe. I wish I can say I had the right to wish these feelings away. I wish I could say, it wasn't my burden, my responsisbility, my family. It wasn't my family that stole from you yesterday, it wasn't my mom that said it was alright. It wasn't me, that walked away with yours, smiling and happy. It wasn't me. She'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. He'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. I'll forgive him, but I'll still feel like crap. I think I feel worse than crap. Because.. how bad can crap really feel? I mean.. it's turd, it's poop, it's excretion. If I were a piece of poop, I don't think I'd feel that bad.. I think poops are carefree and laidback, they just sit there, in the cold, in the sun, in the grass, in the street. I don't feel like crap. I feel terrible. I wish I felt like crap.