Stories and News No. 795
Commenting on the debated revelation by Monsignor Charamsa on his sexual orientation, the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Michael Cunningham argues that "the Church should apologize to the world."
How many more excuses will be asked, and not only from the church.
Until we will hear yet another special kind of “coming out”…
I confess.
I am not better than the others.
Not better than myself and all the fake representations, well-formed or approximately cobbled together because of the rush, that I have sold, given, lent, imposed to you.
At worst, left behind as crumbs to casually pick up.
I have got a lot of vices, let this be known right away, where you intend to go beyond the reassuring line of mere knowledge.
I do not think about sins as many as I make them.
And I never make them as many as I will think about them during the following instant.
Now.
Even now it is happening.
Because that’s how it works - I will never be tired of repeating it, magic is always in the intentions.
Perfection lies in the simple flip of a coin and the goodness in the drawing of lines and colors not yet composed.
It's all there, the stuff which I have claimed so far of.
On the threshold of the door, on the side of the road, even in the prologue of the novel which I am sure - at the beginning it is always the case, I will amaze onlookers with.
The following story is broken, life wobbles and emotions arise on the way, but for me it is good like this.
Because that's all I have.
I will disappoint you, repeatedly, even after promising that it will never happen.
Especially in that case.
I will lie to you, as I always did.
Because if truth really exists I've never met it.
I am unable to imagine it because it goes beyond my capabilities.
I am not also able to portray it, much less tell it.
Let alone exclaiming it with incomprehensible pride, celebrating myself with the memory of such great undertaking in the nights to come.
I am small.
In sizes as the flow of the breath.
I close my eyes and I see it.
I open them and I would forget what I just saw.
That before the endless wonders around me I am just the latest to be given a voice.
Listening and attention of most.
Yet, not so often, even if only once in a lifetime, for sure by mistake, I leave consistent signs.
With the extraordinary mystery that accommodate me.
For these reasons and many more, I confess.
This is my coming out.
Like many, many more than it seems, I am just…
A human being.
Read other stories about diversity
Storytelling videos with subtitles
Also on Stories and News:
Commenting on the debated revelation by Monsignor Charamsa on his sexual orientation, the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Michael Cunningham argues that "the Church should apologize to the world."
How many more excuses will be asked, and not only from the church.
Until we will hear yet another special kind of “coming out”…
I confess.
I am not better than the others.
Not better than myself and all the fake representations, well-formed or approximately cobbled together because of the rush, that I have sold, given, lent, imposed to you.
At worst, left behind as crumbs to casually pick up.
I have got a lot of vices, let this be known right away, where you intend to go beyond the reassuring line of mere knowledge.
I do not think about sins as many as I make them.
And I never make them as many as I will think about them during the following instant.
Now.
Even now it is happening.
Because that’s how it works - I will never be tired of repeating it, magic is always in the intentions.
Perfection lies in the simple flip of a coin and the goodness in the drawing of lines and colors not yet composed.
It's all there, the stuff which I have claimed so far of.
On the threshold of the door, on the side of the road, even in the prologue of the novel which I am sure - at the beginning it is always the case, I will amaze onlookers with.
The following story is broken, life wobbles and emotions arise on the way, but for me it is good like this.
Because that's all I have.
I will disappoint you, repeatedly, even after promising that it will never happen.
Especially in that case.
I will lie to you, as I always did.
Because if truth really exists I've never met it.
I am unable to imagine it because it goes beyond my capabilities.
I am not also able to portray it, much less tell it.
Let alone exclaiming it with incomprehensible pride, celebrating myself with the memory of such great undertaking in the nights to come.
I am small.
In sizes as the flow of the breath.
I close my eyes and I see it.
I open them and I would forget what I just saw.
That before the endless wonders around me I am just the latest to be given a voice.
Listening and attention of most.
Yet, not so often, even if only once in a lifetime, for sure by mistake, I leave consistent signs.
With the extraordinary mystery that accommodate me.
For these reasons and many more, I confess.
This is my coming out.
Like many, many more than it seems, I am just…
A human being.
Read other stories about diversity
Storytelling videos with subtitles
Also on Stories and News: