When I was a little girl, I’d hear the word “pecado” (sin) on the daily. It was in my elders’ vocabulary heavily. I was raised in a catholic family, and almost everything I did; everything I wanted, everything I thought, everything I DREAMED of, was considered a sin. So much that I was in a way afraid to be myself around people because, who knows, breathing might’ve had been sinning.
But sins seemed like so much fun to me. It seemed that all things proven to be good in life were sins. I kind of wanted to sin.
As an adult, effortlessly, I sin. I’m guilty. And as long as I’m not hurting anyone (too much) in the process, I am okay with that. Life is about living. To live fully, mistakes are necessary.
You can’t limit a human life that way. If the religious definition of sinning were to be true, then we’re all sinners by default. Good thing its original meaning is becoming obsolete.
Anyway, I am not trying to discuss “divine laws” — I had this thought in my head today and thought I’d write about it because I like the word and what it represents, and it’s one of my favorite ones to mock.