“Don’t take that.”, the angel tells you quietly, following your gaze. “Nothing good has ever come out of Pride. Take Sloth. It’s boring, but it won’t torture you.”
You have been sent here to make up for a crime you commited: The only crime in your entire life. The angel pitys you.
You look at him, his slouched shoulders, his soft-spoken voice, remember how you were teached angels only care about others and you see how tiring it is. You see the bags of his eyes that even the shiny heavenly energy can’t cover up and how often he blinks.
You open pride. The door makes a screeching sound but it doesn’t feel like a warning. It feels welcoming.
“Why?”, the angel asks you, looking sad. He does nothing but looking at you. He doesn’t dare to save you because God has forbidden and he doesn’t think of himself enough tot hink he can judge better than Him.
You look at him, again, and there is pity in your eyes. You hold out a hand for him to take. “Because I deserve pride.”, you say, “I deserve to think high of myself. My crime was not the pride to think I could decide better than the judge and therefore releasing a criminal, knowing he’s a criminal: My crime was to be wrong to think he would use the chance to become a better person. But everyone has made wrong decisions. That’s a part of life, to make us strong. To make us take pride in who we are, failing and winning, taking pride in not being a doll for someone to use.”
Pride shines brighter with every word, turning from a rusty red to a bright yellow. Behind you, there are gathering people, people who thought they could chance the world and failed to do so, doctors who thought they could change fate and save their patient but failed to do so, firefighters who thought that they would be fast enough but failed to be, civilians who thought they would make a difference but failed to be one.
There are people who believed in themselfes enough to try, even if the world refused to change since generations. There are doctors who believed in themselfes enough to try, even if every logic told them their patient would die. There are firefighters who believed in themselfes enough to try, even if the fire was already everywhere. There are civilians who believed in themselfes enough to try, even if nobody believed in them.
There are people behind you, standing tall with pride, a kind smile on their faces, holding out a hand for the angel that tried to give them the safer option, tried to tell them to hold their head down to live good enough even in the realm of a sin.
Your hand has broken bones, it is bloody, you have to feel pain, yet you stand prideful and offering it for him to take.
Because the safer option doesn’t always make you feel good.
Sometimes, you have to get youself bloody, have to fail, to remember to stand up, to remember what is best for you.
Every sin has their good part. You just choose which one is best for you.
The angel takes your hand and goes through the door.
You close the door after him and give God a challenging smile.