I am the Lord thy God
I. Thou shalt have no other Gods before me
— and I promised You there wouldn’t be. I’m not sorry.
II. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image
— but she ironically wears this cheap plastic cross necklace that she won at a claw machine in the arcade downtown. When she hovered over me, it kept tapping my nose and we both couldn’t stop laughing. I was so happy. I’m not sorry.
III. Thou shalt not take thy name of thy Lord in vain
— but, oh my. God, it is so unfair of You to create someone that thinks it’s cute (!?) when my palms get sweaty, and then tell me it’s a sin to want to hold her hand. I held her hand. I’m not sorry.
IV. Remember the sabbath day to keep it holy
— but how could I possibly remember anything when she keeps texting me restaurant recommendations and photos of her aunt’s cat? I couldn’t focus on You with the excitement of my phone buzzing, and her name shining brightly on my screen. She put a sparkly heart emoji next to her contact. I’m not sorry.
V. Honor thy Father and thy Mother
— can I still honor them, even if I keep the most vital parts of me locked away in a crimson chest beneath the dirty dresses in my closet? I don’t think so. (I am a little sorry about this one.)
VI. Thou shalt not kill
— but I just want the secret online chat rooms, the rainbow pins, my daydreams of Kristen Stewart, the way I felt when she remembered my favorite song, to die. I want to kill it. I want to bury it beneath the ground and let it rot amongst the tombstones of my ancestors, never to see the light of day again. This is Your fault. I’m not sorry.
VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery
— but everytime my new “boyfriend” grabs my thigh, I look down and wish his nails were painted that dark shade of purple that was always a little bit chipped on hers. I wish he was wearing far too many rings for his fingers and that wristband from the Vampire Weekend concert she went to three years ago that she refused to take off. I’m disappointed when he tells me he loves me. I’m not sorry.
VIII. Thou shalt not steal
— but I can’t stop stealing glances at her in class as she scribbles out all her words because she thinks erasers are lame. She puts her hair up in a ponytail. She always said it “helped her concentrate,” but I lose my train of thought as the circular red marks down her neck are quickly revealed. I can’t help but wonder if the perpetrator of this skin-sucking made a map of the freckles down her torso that leads directly to home, like I did. I miss her. I’m not sorry…
IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor
— but it’s so hard to say anything besides “I’m okay,” when the words “I loved a girl” don’t fit right in my mouth. And when my mom tells me I’m wasting water by constantly washing all my bed sheets, I don’t tell her it’s because I can’t seem to get the rosy scent of that expensive perfume my ex-girlfriend stole from her sister out of my blankets. I say I spilt earl grey tea, and the stain just won’t wash away.
And when I lie in bed at night and my mind drifts to the thought of long eyelashes and soft lips and curves, I tell myself that this is what every girl does. This is what every girl does. I’m not weird. I’m not sorry.
X. Thou shalt not covet
— but I envy everyone who’s never met her, and I envy everyone who will ever get to meet her for the first time. I envy those who can follow You blissfully because I have sinned in more ways than one. I have bent down on my knees for all the wrong reasons, but You have to understand that she was the only one who ever showed me any faith. God, I don’t really believe in you, but I can’t believe myself. I guess maybe I’m the one I should be apologizing to.