My sins are my possessions.
Others might think they see them, but they are reading their own stories through foggy glass. They might think they understand, but they only understand themselves better than they do me. They condemn themselves by judging me.
My sins are not my shame. They are a collection of my experiences, good and bad. Like any other experience, I might learn from them to live smarter, or enjoy repeating them to live better. I can take them out or leave them tucked away because they are mine.
My sins do not define me, any more than the people I know or the food I eat. They do not guide me or set my path in life. When I walk my feet land where they do based on everything I’ve learned before, from myself and from others.
