Dirty
Everything she touched brought back that familiar feeling. She couldn’t look at him without assuming the worse regarding his intentions. She could see right through his lustful glances and oddly enough did not find it repulsive. Nothing surprised her anymore. She wouldn’t allow it. She expected that of him, because she settled on the fact that that was the way of the world. And she was slowly being summoned into it. Applause from a crowd for her continued conformity, and rejection from the same crowd if she chose otherwise. She was trying to please the wrong audience.
Guilt began to replace her conscience. It dictated her thoughts and judgments. Everything felt dirty to her. Luckily, her actions weren’t consistently matching up with her thoughts. If they did, it would be a dead give away, and she wasn’t ready to be exposed yet. She never claimed righteousness, but in the darkest place she prayed that there was such a thing. It may have been easier to be consumed by the bacteria of her filth, but it hurt like hell to always be infected by it. She had always attributed righteousness to being worthy. An attribute that she most certainly did not embody. At the end of the day, she began to yearn more for the thing she thought she could never be.
To be continued…
