“So tell me, If we stood face-to-face, in silence for a moment that felt like an infinity, and I cradled your face in my hands, and told you how beautiful you are, would you believe me?” (Jeanette LeBlanc)
As if written by Judas, who betrayed Jesus (fiction)…..
Beautiful? I don’t even know what that means. Stop touching me! Don’t you know what I did? Ugly. That’s what I am. UGLY! You offend me by telling me I am beautiful. I know you are lying. They are all lying. They said He would have forgiven me. Puf. Forgive? That’s a fictional word, if there ever was one. I know they say He forgave Peter, but he did not do anything as bad as ‘I’ did. Thirty pieces of silver. It wasn’t even gold! That’s how cheaply I sold myself. I did not sold Him, but me, and every notion of good judgement, even though I don’t think I had much of it before anyway.
So no, I am NOT beautiful. I don’t even like that word. It reminds me too much of Him. You know, even after I died, well I took my own life, He came to me. He even would have embraced me had I allowed. Forgiveness. That horrid word was on his lips. But I would have none of it. Lies. Those were all lies! Something ugly cannot be made beautiful. Something wrong cannot be made right by that word He so often likes to utter. He told me ‘He’ had corrected it. But no, I did not buy into it.
I wept. Oh how I wept for making that step. Tears of self-hatred and regret. I never cried in order to ask Him to make it right. When hatred poisons your soul, you don’t see silver nor gold nor gentle acts someone might offer to help you out of the narrowness of your prison. Hatred makes you only see hatred and walls. And you hate yourself the most. Anything beautiful scares you, and challenges your hatred so that you despise it three times more than if it wasn’t beautiful. Love? Forgiveness? They wanted to break my walls of self-hatred, but I did not allow them. So don’t you try now. Move your hands from my face! I cannot stand the warm touch. It reminds me that someone might care, a little bit too much. But I had shut the last possibility of beauty and love far in the deepest corners of my heart. I lost the key – on purpose. So don’t you now remind me. Leave me in the self-hatred. Beautiful? Puf. That’s another fictional word, I tell you. You are a writer, you should know.
Do you think there are people who think this way, even in part, about themselves?
I want to speak to all the hurting parts of our hearts and tell them, you are beautiful. Your essence is. You are not beautiful because of anything you have done, but because you are loved. Yes, you may not believe in God, or even if you are like me – you do, but you will say “it’s not enough”. Quit that shitty monologue in your head, You Are Loved!
There. Now, lets live like we know it.
This was an answer to the prompt from the “30 Questions To Bring You Closer To Your Wild Heart”, a course run by Jeanette LeBlanc. Next round is starting on 15th November and you can sign for it here.
© Iva Beranek (Dublin, 6th November 2017)