Now I wasn't raised in the church, and I haven't got the slightest idea of what I believe in, and I also know that my morals have been slipping down the drain lately just like my tears after that terrible afternoon that I cannot bare to discuss. I am a little let down since no religion I have come in contact with has talked about a sad teenage girl who feels violated by a boy she once trusted. I don't know if this has anything to do with religion, but I remember learning in English about the seven deadly sins. There is gluttony, pride, lust, greed, sloth, envy, and wrath. And God do I want to somehow want to slowly etch your name between lust and greed. If I made the rules, I would create an eighth deadly sin with your name.
And I absolutely hate it, my mind has been wrapped up lately on what it felt like to have your bare hands running down my skin. I didn't even enjoy it, yet it haunts my mind. Please do not talk to me like I am less than you, because I have actually proved myself to be greater than you. Do not grab my arm much too forcefully and tell me to stay with those stupid eyes and that stupid mouth of yours.
You have nothing to prove. Nothing at all. I do not belong to you and I do not belong to him, although I wish I did. All I know is that you are my salvation, and I hope that one day he will become my redemption. It took me a year and one January afternoon gone horribly wrong to give up on you. It'll take me much longer to give up on him. I am selfish, consumed by lust and fire and blood and bruises and sin and broken glass and illegal substances and whiskey and mistakes. I hope people will not figure out that I am not the naive little girl I was two years ago. My pride has been diminished to almost nothing thanks to you and that January afternoon.
I'm not quite sure if I believe in God yet, but the Devil is someone I've made a close friend with. He laughs each time you somehow manage to manipulate me and use those stupid eyes of yours to get me to do things I would never ever want to do with you, only with him. Only with him. I'm not much for religion, and I do not own my own bible, but I do know for a fact that I whisper God's name when I'm thinking of him. Not you. I will continue to relate everything regarding him to sin and heaven and hell and paradise and sometimes purgatory. I hope that his mother warned him about girls like me, and I know that he will still sneak out of his house to see me during the deepest times of the night despite his mother's strong suggestions because all we've got to question is whether or not this is worth the sin. He is worth it. You are not. You are not worth the sin. He is. He is worth the sin.

*-andrea