My mistake
I could never live it down, no matter how much I tried.
Growing up in a small town sometimes restricted peoples thinking to the minute
dimensions of their surroundings. It happened to me and mine and I knew that I
would always be remembered for the mistake I made.
People turning away when I got closer was my first
indication of anything abnormal. Those that spoke to me, spoke while looking
down as if they were maidens being courted. Those brave enough faced me and informed
me how disappointed they were and how much of a moo and a woof I was.
It was funny at first but I grew more annoyed at the nerve
of these people who thought I would live my life according to their standards
and that I owed them explanations. My life had become their playground and they
took pleasure in having it in between roast chicken and green jelly. I wanted
to torment them and so I did it again and many spoke about me being possessed
by many a demon and how hands needed to be laid on me.
I walked with my head up high and knew that they would never
forgive me, no matter how Christian they claimed to be. They thought it their
Christian duty to judge, name me and then pray for me. None dared come anywhere
near me, for fear of being possessed by the contagious demons of mistakes.
I love and loathed my mistake but I would do it again just
to spite them.
