I never used to curse. I honestly still feel bad for writing about it. These scripts are deep down inside me somewhere trying to claw their way out. The scripts that produce guilt and shame, ever-present companions of the past, seemingly vanquished for moments of true serenity where I can just be. But here they are again, shouting at me:
Don’t do this!
Your mom would be so ashamed!
You’re going to go to hell you know!
You can’t say curse words out loud, let alone write them down for everyone in the world to see!
You’re a seriously unholy person!
Doesn’t the Bible say “Let no unwholesome talk come out of your mouth?”
Damn. Even writing that hurts. Not writing “damn”, but the verse from the Bible. It still tries to shame and condemn me for my misdeeds. And not even just for saying a curse word, but also for just thinking it.
I first experienced the pleasure of cursing when I was 5 years old. Looking back, I honestly wish I would have really taken advantage of it...
Read the rest of the story here at www.medium.com.
_____________