I am a registered hypocrite. I feed on the spiritually weak who need someone to look up to. I try very hard to be that person — to at least appear to be one who is spiritually strong. Because of that, you have to be careful around me, because I act like I know what I am saying when sometimes I do not.
I am a registered hypocrite. When I am around sinners I sometimes want to be like them — to be in their club — but I never can be, because I have spent my whole life trying to be holy, different, pure, set apart. I really don’t know what it’s like to be one of them because — well, I’m just not. I am blind to my own sin. As a registered hypocrite, I can’t just be a sinner; that would make me like everyone else, and would ruin my reason for being.
I am a registered hypocrite. I am always right in my own eyes. Though I might appear humble to you, I know better. I know that deep down, I am not like everybody else. I am better. I am well bred; there is nothing I can do about this. It’s my pedigree.
As a registered hypocrite, I am always self-conscious, because I always have to arrange the way I perceive things so as to come out on top. I wish I could get rid of this self-consciousness, but when I try, I am even more aware of it because I am trying to get rid of it. I wish there were a way to just step out of this — drop my righteous robes and be the man in rags that I really am, but I don’t know who that guy is. I don’t want to be naked — unclothed — and since I don’t know who to be without my robes, I cling to them. I don’t know how to act like somebody I’ve never been, because all I know about is being a hypocrite.
As a registered hypocrite, I don’t have many friends. Friends hang together because they have so much in common. They share each other’s stories because they are basically the same, but I am not. I have spent my whole life proving I was different. I don’t know how to be anything else. That’s why I am a registered hypocrite.
I am a registered hypocrite. I spend so much time inside my head arranging my world around me and covering up my fears and insecurities that you will never really get to know me.
I am a registered hypocrite. If I lead anyone astray, it would be better for me to be tied to a large stone and thrown into the depths of the sea. I am so much more worse off than a “sinner,” because I don’t see my sin; and if I don’t see my sin, I don’t need to be saved. I don’t even need to be forgiven, because I didn’t really do anything wrong.
Though I’m dangerous, I can’t do much harm to anyone because I can’t get very close; not with this log in my eye. It kind of keeps me at a distance, but that’s just the way I like it, because I’m a registered hypocrite. You can’t really see me; I can’t really see you. Nice and safe.
I wonder what would happen if I lost this log.