Seven Deadly Sins by Manayer

Posted on October 12, 2015 by

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When a real woman resides in captivity in the hands of a real man, shadowed by fear of the society.

Or that’s only how I perceive him. After all, we see people as a reflection of who we are. I read it from Erich Fromm, God is only the mirror of our maturity, of our incompatibility.

Seven deadly sins, seven ways to die.

Yet all religions failed to mention fear, the one deadly sin that breathes life out of all the living, and leaves us as dead creatures consuming oxygen and other chemicals, afraid to reach out for what is there to cause us pleasure, happiness or on usual cases, pain.

Or maybe that’s another failure of my cognition; maybe religions and faith have managed to move fear to a more dignified place, making us less fearful in placing our faith in a higher strength, larger hand of fate, or what we like to name God. A humungous unseen that is there to tap on our backs and is able to handle our fear of what is unknown.

Why weren’t I told about fear before? The one great deadly sin that derives life out of you and me? Why haven’t they spoken of how we deprive ourselves from the loveliest companions, the greatest memories our remembering self can have, the best anticipated futures we can aspire to acquire..just because we were born in a corrupted society that promotes fear, in which we surprisingly find the greatest securities.

What about the wronged hopes? Can we not call them sins? Overly optimistic visions of the future; hoping we will one day stop being afraid.

What about inconsideration?

Mesmerized weakness that unfolds itself every time, I wonder what’s the motive? I look around myself, upon my shoulders and I can’t seem to understand.

Millions of people seem to have it worse. They lose family, loved ones, can’t find food on the table, don’t even have a table, and yet my demanding heart finds a way to feel dissatisfied. What are we? What kind of creatures? Monstrously greedy and always looking for more, endless countless voids in our hearts that I can’t name a thing to fill it. Do we really need love? Are we really in a continuous state of wanderlust or is it just my heart wanting what it can’t obtain?

I look around and all I see is blessings. Yet disdain and discomfort is all I feel. The beautiful songs make me drown deeper in my unexplained dissatisfaction. Meditation. Beautiful faces. Caring people. All bring me back to why I need more. The voids get bigger and I miss more what I can’t seem to have.

I crave understanding. What is it in us that drives us toward the unattainable? Is it a mere regression to mediocrity? Or is this the vicious course of life, we can never have what we chase the most. What we crave the most.

I fear indulgence more than death itself, indulgence in things that will take me and I worry they won’t bring me back.

I fear solitude. Even though I see people around me, and I don’t know how to hold on. I fear the day when you’re someone else’s, and I’ll regret letting you go, and choosing to be wise, rather than reckless.

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