Shape of me✔️

Sinner

        ~~S H A P E O F M E~~
I watched porn a tab next to one with the word of God on it. It wasn't on purpose as I didn't notice until I was done moaning out Malik's name. But it still didn't change how d*mn awful it was.

To start from the beginning; the day before, I had been browsing out scriptural verses for a youth meeting Mami had forced me to attend. Today however, I wasn't sure what came over me but I watched porn for the third time on a tab next to the Bible verses without even being aware.

Sitting down with my phone still in my hand, I couldn't help but feel like the dirtiest sinner in the world. The fact that God had been so close to me while I was sinning was enough to make me cower in guilt.

It had been a few weeks since I was dis-virgined, un-virgined or made a non-virgin–whatever you chose to call it–and we had been having sex quite often. At least three times a week was the deal and Malik made me plead for more with each session we had every passing day.

It came as a shocking, not-exactly-joyful surprise to me when I realised I was getting obsessed with sex. Actually, it wasn't an obsession. It was more of an addiction, like I was becoming dependent on it. Without having sex in a day, I was horny and needy; dripping with lust and more. It was so wearying that it was always a relief to have Malik in me the next day.

On days like today when Malik was out of the province for a basketball tournament, all I could do was satisfy my desires with porn and whatever way possible. I feel so dirty thinking this.

It was funny how my life changed so quickly. In the snap of a finger, I was no longer who I used to be. Sex used to be the last thing on my mind–a taboo even–but now a day couldn't go by without me thinking about it. Every moment away from Malik was spent craving for it and any spent with him was all about us having sexual intercourse like deranged people.

But apart from all the pleasure sex gave, it also tugged along a pool of guilt. And gratingly, guilt was worse. It was deeper and more engulfing than pleasure. It lasted longer too. Long enough for me to see myself as undeserving of anything good–even life itself.

Every time I found myself in Malik's bed, it was a wonderful experience. Him with me, him on me, him inside of me. It was all about having him to myself. But when I was alone was when regret consumed me. I could feel my conscience tugging at the innocence I had buried in the deeps of my subconscious. It felt like I was being haunted.

Sometimes I wondered if I would ever overcome my guilt. What if I never did? Would I be able to live with myself? How would I face Jesus with my sea of sins?

That was one thing about sinning that I had come to learn about. In the moment, you might enjoy it but as long as you did that wrong will-fully, the thrill never lasted long. Soon, the exhilaration would melt away into a puddle of mess. And in it all you could see was yourself, how you'd failed, how you didn't deserve to talk to God and how you shouldn't try to seek His face.

It always ended up like that, gradually pulling you away from His presence.

I was at this stage. The stage where I was too ashamed to talk to God. I was too guilty to read his word without being made to and even when I asked for forgiveness, I did it out of fear. I was drowning and I wasn't making any efforts to break above the surface to fresh air because I was terrified of whatever was outside of the misery I was in.

Many times, I made the decision to stop having sex, but my will never lasted for too long. By the time I met Malik the next day, I was already a turned on, desperate mess. After which I became a painfully guilty sinner.