It’s hard for me to convince myself that I am now walking on the same aisle where two indifferent yet passionate hearts collide and where dead proceed to their last prayer offering long before their corpse are forgotten feet under dirt. I hear my rampant heart thumping as though my chest was implanted by a deadly grenade. The air tastes both bitter and salty. Small beads of sweat starting to form on my forehead, I gently wipe it with the back of my hand. As I walk, I solemnly look up at the cross hanging on the far wall where Christ sacrificed his life for our sins. I wonder, will I still have the same burning fire in my soul just like his will of our salvation? That, I’m not certain. But if there’s one thing I know, I will never be the same again. God, forgive me.
I hear my footsteps as it softly lands on the divinely white tiled floor — tainting it as I walk on. My palms are sweaty yet frozen cold and I can barely feel it move. Halfway my heavy journey, I went to a stop. I am completely aware of my solitude, reflecting on the things I shouldn’t have done. I still have few moments to back out before it even gets worse. But I chose this.
I can feel the moist in my eyes and I see a cloudy vision but no tears are falling. My lungs are empty, I grasp for air but it’s only like shoving toxic oxygen in my system. Disoriented, I could not think properly. My mind shattered, broken into pieces as I reckon the recklessness of my doings which I am now extremely suffering from. What will I say? I’m sick of telling lies. But it seems that lies are the only company I can resort to. I am now a sculptured representation of utter hypocrisy. I do not deserve to light a candle that was once a gift from God. I do not deserve God.
At the far side of this sacred place stands a lone and dark room where mistakes are often made into a blessing and sins are formed into dust. I hold my breath as my decisions become sharp now. There’s no turning back.