United States of America

I come on here like. Once a month.
Post two things.
Then leave again.

Message to Readers

This piece is meant to hurt.

the masochistic toleration of human sin

June 21, 2019



***For parts of this to make sense, please first read why do we write?


When one usually thinks of sin, it’s the seven deadly sins that first come to mind.

Lust. Lechery. Luxuria. Sexuality. Unbridled sexual desire, or even desire for power, money. But mostly sex.

Gluttony. Gula. Gluttire. Wasteful overindulgence. The five ways to commit Gluttony (Thank you, Thomas Aquinas) are as such:

Laute. Eating too expensively.
Studiose. Eating too daintily.
Nimis. Overeating.
Praepropere. Eating too soon.
Ardenter. Eating too eagerly.

Greed. Avaritia. Avarice. Cupidity. Similar to Lust and Gluttony, it’s a sin of desire. Of more. More power, more money, more, more, more.

Sloth. Tristitia. Lack of feeling. Laziness.

Wrath. Ira. Uncontrolled feelings of anger. Rage. Hatred. Vengeance.

Envy. Invidia. Another insatiable desire, like Greed and Lust. One is jealous of another because of their possessions. Whether that be their personality traits, physical traits, or status. Maybe for more secretive reasons.

Pride. Superbia. Dignity and holiness that make humans more like the God— or the gods— that they worship. Pride is usually considered the most serious of the seven deadly sins because of this fact. “By ignorance is pride increased; They most assume who know the least.” Thank you, John Gay.



We’ve all committed them once or twice, haven’t we?

Such monsters we are. Such sinners. Dirty, filthy sinners.

And all we can do is, what, repent? Beg for forgiveness?

“I’m sorry that I was jealous of that rich family.”

“I’m sorry that I thought that woman was attractive.”

“I didn’t mean to look at him that way.”

“I didn’t mean to think like that towards her.”

“I didn’t think.”

“I’m sorry.”

But it’s normal, isn’t it?

Mortal sin.

We’re not humans without carnal desire. We’re not human without our sins. Without our sins, this world would be a bland, boring utopia where everything is all sunshine and rainbows, and nothing ever goes wrong.

There would be no fights, no wars, no famine, nothing, nothing, nothing.

We would never have to strive to better ourselves, would we?

We would never have to think of all the horrible things that were happening in the world, would we?




Humans sin because it spices things up for the boys upstairs. Humans sin because the world is out to get us, and what better way to solve the problem than fight back?

We’ve advanced as a species. As a society.

Aren’t you proud?

Look at how far we’ve come! Not so long ago, doctors thought that leeches were a good medical practice. They didn’t sanitize their tools. “Bite the bullet,” and we’ll try to fix you up without knowing much about what we’re doing. But hey! That’s all in the past, isn’t it? We’ve changed! We’re even trying to colonize different planets!

We’re advanced.

We humans do whatever it takes to advance. Even if it means destroying the world around us. Destroying life. The ecosystem.

Other humans.

We’re designed on the principle of survival of the fittest. Am I wrong?

Tell me.

Haven’t you ever thought about how you were better than a person? Maybe once. Or twice. Or more. Is that confidence?

Or is it arrogance?

There’s a fine line between the two, and some don’t even know the difference. Some think they’re the exact same.

con·​fi·​dent | \ ˈkän-fə-dənt
1: full of conviction; certain.
2: having or showing assurance and self-reliance.

ar·​ro·​gant | \ ˈer-ə-gənt
1: exaggerating or disposed to exaggerate one’s own worth or importance often by an overbearing manner.
2: showing an offensive attitude of superiority; proceeding from or characterized by arrogance.

Well, now these are quite different, now, aren’t they? Confident is so positive. When you’re confident, you’re a good person.

But when you’re arrogant, you’re a bitch.

Let me ask you a question, though. What makes us human?

“God created human beings in His image, with a unique spiritual nature and an eternal destiny.”

Who is this God? Why did He create us? For what purpose did this “God” decide that creating humans was ever a good idea? When we fight, does He look down at us in pain? When we love, does He smile and sigh in relief, glad that we’re doing something that we’re supposed to in His eyes?

When we die, what does He think? When we murder, what does He do? Did He create this planet, this solar system, this galaxy and all the rest, what happened after that? Where has He gone?

When I pray, who answers the phone?

When I pray, does He listen to me?

When I cry, does He cry with me?

When I yell, does He stare on?

When I hurt myself, does He want to stop me?

When I sin, does He still love me?

Does He still love us?

This broken, hateful, spiteful, disgusting species? This sinful, carnal, nightmarish, warmongering—

Of course He loves us.

He does, doesn’t He?

No matter who we are, what we’ve done, or what we will do, He has to love us.

He has to love us. He’s our Father, isn’t He?

Fathers love their children unconditionally, no matter what we do. No matter what mistakes we make, no matter how many times we make mistakes, He will love us.

But what about human fathers?

Will they love us no matter what we do? No matter what mistakes we make, no matter how many times we make them? Will they love us unconditionally?



Only a blind, ignorant, naive child would think something like that.

And we are all naive sometime in our lives — some more than others.

But I don’t pity you for being naive.

Who am I to judge others? I’ve made the same mistakes. I’ve trusted the wrong people? I’ve said the wrong things at the wrong time, and I’ve paid the price.

I’ve paid the price for my mistakes.

I’ve hurt and been hurt.

I’ve died, and I’ve been reincarnated as a phoenix, born from the ashes of the kid who was crushed under the pressure of living. “Do this and this, and you should be fine. But by the way, here are all these mental disabilities and stability issues in your family life. And here’s a troubled marriage between your parents. And here’s a sibling who doesn’t ever want to talk to you.

“And here are all of the things you’re going to do wrong. But it’s okay because you’re still loved. Your parents still love you. Your sibling still loves you. I still love you. We still love you.

“But here’s your crushed dreams that you used to believe in. Here was that confidence that you lost when you hit puberty. Here’s your moderate to severe depression that you aren’t taking medication for. Here’s the anxiety that no one believes that you have until you break down in a claustrophobic space. Here’s the brain that doesn’t work right. Here are all of the health problems that are perfectly normal for a kid your age, you’re still growing, you’ll turn out fine in the end.”

You’ll turn out fine in the end.

I’ll turn out fine?

I’ll turn out fine?

How the Hell do you know that? Are you from the future? Can you read my future just by looking at the lines on the palm of my hand? Did you secretly have tarot cards hidden in this room, somewhere?

I’m not fine.

You wanted to know who I was? Who I am?

I’m broken.

Imagine this:

You’re in a dark room. It’s cold and clammy, and you can barely see what’s in front of you. There are no windows. There are only two things in this room that you can see:

A door, and a person.

You look at the door first. It’s an old-looking wooden door. Some of the polish has worn off. There are chips and scratches and dents scattered around the door. When you test the metal doorknob— slightly rusted, feels rough to the touch— it’s locked. If you force it, the doorknob might come off. When you feel around the metal where the doorknob was screwed in, you can hear one of the screws fall out and clink dully onto the floor.

Underneath the doorknob is a keyhole. When you look through it, you see another room with a mirror. There is nothing else in that room that you can see, other than the mirror. There is no door for you to escape through. You are stuck in this place until you solve the puzzle.

You turn back around, and the person you saw earlier hadn’t moved. Imagine this person. What do they look like? What features can you make out? Their hair? Their posture, their stature? Are they breathing?

Seems so. They wouldn’t be in that position if they were dead. And the room would smell a lot worse.

“I’ve seen a lot in this world,” they begin. What does their voice sound like? Is it croaky? Raspy? Does it sound like they haven’t drunk any water in a while? Do they have an accent that sounds foreign to your ears? “I’ve seen a lot in this world.” Why do they sound so broken? So defeated? What happened to them to make them like this?

They say more. They tell you about their story. About what happened to them to ruin their resolve.
Is what they said to you eye-opening? How long did it take them to tell their story? A minute? An hour? Did you listen with undivided interest? Did they expect you to respond in some parts?

Who can say? I can’t. I don’t know what they said to you.

But what happened to them…

Did they repent for their sins?

If ever in their story, did they talk about something wrong that they did, then proceeded to defend themselves? Did they ever say, “I’m only human?”

I’m only human?

So are the rest of us.

Being human doesn’t make you unique. Being human is just that— being human. Being alive. You’re not a blessed gift from God. You’re not a mistake, either.

But if God created us, why does He only look on when we suffer? Why does He tolerate all the mistakes we make? Why does He allow us to wage war on each other? Why?


I’ve been told that we’re all on this world for a specific reason.

I think that’s stupid.

That’s a stupid way of looking at life because it raises your expectations. It makes you think that you’re going to be some sort of hero. Some sort of celebrity. It makes you believe that everyone in the world cares about you.

They don’t.

A lot of humans don’t even know that you, specifically, exist.

A lot of humans don’t care that you exist.

“You were born for a reason.”

Was I?

Were we?

If you tell me that I was born for a reason, then why don’t you know? Why don’t you know the reason why I was born? Don’t give me false promises. Give me the truth. “I don’t know why you were born, and maybe sometimes you’ll even question why you were even born in the first place. But you’re here, and you’ll hopefully find a good reason to stay here.”

Hopefully, you will find a reason to stay here. Maybe it won’t just be one reason. Maybe those reasons will change, and you’ll keep pulling at strings just to keep moving forward in life. After all, nothing on Earth is truly stagnant.

Nothing on Earth lasts forever. Every second that passes is already in the past. We, as humans, consume time like there’s no tomorrow. We are Gluttons of time. Some are Greedy with it.

We don’t have enough time to do everything on this world. We won’t live to see a lot of things. Some of us will die full of regrets until we’re ripping at the seams.

Why didn’t I do this or that? Why didn’t I tell him that I wasn’t okay, or why did I tell her that I loved her? Why did I let him walk away? Why didn’t I go with them? Why did I say that? Why did I lie?

How could I have done that?

Regardless of who we are as a person, there is no such thing as “dying happy.” When you’re in a certain situation where you are content, and a part of you thinks that you could “die happy” in that particular point in time, it’s only because you aren’t thinking. Your mind is being nice and isn’t telling you about all the things you could have done or could do in the future.

Pay attention now. I don’t care if you were skimming and scanning through the last 2,107 words.

Ask yourself this question:

“Am I happy where I am right now?”

Let that sit in your mind. Let it roll around, let it settle. Are you happy? When was the last time you laughed or smiled genuinely? When was the last time you truly felt content? When was the last time you had everything done and was resting with an empty mind?

When was the last time you could rest without thinking of any of the things that you should’ve been doing?


Tell me.

I’m actually a little curious.

Now, let’s go back to the dark room.

When you look down at this person, they meet your eye. They give you the key. “You can leave this place, but if you do it, then leave without me.” They slump back down, eyes meeting the floor once more.

Do you try to convince them to leave with you? Do you try to tell them that they still have a life worth living, regardless of what they’ve done in the past?


You’re in no place to say that to this person.

You don’t know who they are. They might have told you what they’ve done in the past, but that doesn’t mean you’re friends. You’re not their therapist. You’re not a professional when it comes to convincing people not to give up on their lives.

Who are you to tell someone to force themselves to keep pushing forward when they don’t want to? Who are you to kneel down and tell someone that their life is one that is worth living?

Who are you to tell someone that they were born for a reason?

You’re not.

You’re just someone trying to play the hero.

Let’s be real here. You’re trying to get rid of your guilty conscience by convincing this someone to keep living. You’re the only one stopping yourself from leaving that room.

So why don’t you?

Come on.

Turn around. Walk towards the door.

Put the key in the keyhole. It’s alright if you miss a few times. The room is quite dark, after all.

Oh. The key’s in. Now you just have to turn it and wait for that door to click. And when it does click, you just have to turn the doorknob, and you’ll be free. Why are you thinking so hard about someone you’ve never met? Someone you’ll never meet again? It’s not like they’re going to come back and haunt you. They’ll only be a weight on your shoulders if you let them be.

Detach yourself.

Free yourself.

There’s no need for you to shoulder the weight of other people’s problems.

Why did you ever do it in the first place?




And in the next room, you see the mirror.

You see yourself, and you watch as the door closes and clicks shut behind you.

You see the lock turn. 

And now, you're left to think.  

How dare you leave that person by themselves? They were broken, and you gave up on them so easily?  

How dare you.  

How dare you.  


But that's hypocritical of me, isn't it?  

How unfortunate.  

But you were manipulated. You should've seen it. Or did you see it? Why didn't you say anything? You could've stopped me from telling you to leave that room.  

Such a shame.  

It's as if I took away your freedom of speech.  


Did you hear that?  

I just laughed. Sorry, I know this isn't a funny subject. It's just— have you ever had your freedom of speech taken away from you?

Maybe, maybe not.  

Do you know how it feels, now? Of course you don't. Or maybe you do.   

In this story, you never had a choice in the first place. I took you on an adventure with an inevitable ending. It was written before you even knew that this story even existed.  


What a fun word.

But before I leave, let me ask you again.

Why do we write?
To my father. 
To myself.
To those whose voices shall never be heard.
To those whose dreams were crushed and blew away before we could catch them.
To you, the reader. For continuing to push forward.


See History
  • June 21, 2019 - 1:45am (Now Viewing)

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  • Blotted Ink with a Broken Quill

    Totally. (Some Form of Writing (SFOW (are parentheses in parentheses a thing?)) was a member of WTW and she was the first to leave, sorta started a movement.

    10 months ago
  • _nsbb

    Don't worry Blotted, I work on all of my pieces first in G-Drive before placing them anywhere near WtW.
    Thank you so much for the kind words!

    10 months ago
  • Blotted Ink with a Broken Quill

    (would you mind adding "SFOW" to your write free notice)?

    10 months ago
  • Blotted Ink with a Broken Quill


    This is truly a masterpiece of emotions. I could say something positive, but I believe that would ruin the mood, and not do justice to the story.
    Writing about deep philosophical questions—or talking about them in real life—is a challenge, but you brought in a narrative. Not the situation, but the italicized text. It was lifting a veil over the rest of the story, making sure you took it seriously.
    You have cut open a human body—quite thoroughly—and displayed the ever-changing cogs of the mind.
    Do not lose this piece, please. Copy it to G-Drive before it gets taken down.

    10 months ago
  • timtam.9

    I don’t exactly know why I sat down and read through this entire thing despite it being so long and so depressing. But I sat. And I read. And I don’t regret it. And I congratulate you on sitting. And writing. And examining these human thoughts and feelings that are usually so hard to deal with. So- we’ll done. This was beautifully constructed and I enjoyed having someone go through these things in such an honest and raw manner. Good job.

    10 months ago