Every piece of gold you find which I leave behind is not a treasure. Those are the stones with which I am paving my slimy road to hell. Each of those oh so beautiful pieces of fiction you are so enamored of are laced with the aforementioned anti-virtues. All of the intentions for writing most of them are mean-spirited.
All that is here is a corrupted girl, albeit with some sparkling features and some potential for more, but she is only a meager shadow of the fantasy you adore. I feel like a thief and a cheat, swindling you out of admiration and affection with my lovely fa�ade, to gorge my shameful pride and vanity.
Yet�
It is good to know that I am not imprisoned in my filth. It is good to know that it can be washed away�
I am tired of the stress on iniquities lately. Especially the pressures I put on myself about my own. To dwell on them so long only engorges them and inflates them with self pity. Pro-activity is key. Let us recognize, repent of, and repair our faults. Let us become the people we want to be. We may trip and fall over and over, we may never succeed in fully repairing ourselves during our lifetime, but we will get somewhere if we only truly try. As long as life is still with us, as long as a person yet breathes, we can always try.