I crave self-dignity. Everything I do, I do for me. Even the spiritual acts, the kind words. Even the selflessness is twisted selfishness. I am deceitful and deceptive and utterly dishonest.
I spend my life in front of a mirror. I’ve perfected the self-serving angles and facial expressions. I’ve determined the lighting that will bring me the most self worth and self glory. I’ve realized that I can be beautiful in the eyes of everyone if I master just the right posture.
I self promote and self proclaim my own battle cries for self provision.
And I am good at it: Look at me! I am an amazing person! Praise me! Esteem me! Promote my glory!
Except that the mirror is lying to me and I am lying to you.
I am not good nor lovely nor perfect nor beautiful.
I have bloody scabs and rough wounds that clutter my soul. I walk around in a safety net, shadowing me from everyone else. I try my best to be impressive and polite but, in full honesty, I am concerned more with being well loved then by loving well.
If only there was another way. If only it were possible to rip that self-promoting mirror off the wall, point that heavy reflector away from me and at something truer. If only I could angle my mirror at someone fully selfless so that I reflected him instead of my own self worth. If only it were possible to locate such perfection of love and truth and honesty and echo it. If only...
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