Father: How long has it been since your last confession?
Me: Uh, in reality I've never been to confession.
Father: Were you baptised in the holy Roman Catholic Church?
Me: No sir. I'm a Presbyterian.
Father: Then why did you come here?
Me: Well, I guess, absolution. Plus! you guys can't share whatever I tell you.
Father: I'm sorry. I can't really help you. It doesn't work like it does in the movies.
Me: No! It's okay! If you tell me to say like ten Hail Marys or something I'll learn the prayer or something. I'd just really appreciate the chance to get a clean slate.
Father: *sighs* Well, if it's what you want. But I only have fifteen minutes.
Me: Sweet! I promise I'll make this quick!
Father: Right. What is troubling you?
Me: Well, *pulls out piece of crumpled notebook paper* allow me to begin by confessing-
Me: Uh, no. *puts paper back in pocket*
Father: Please make this quick.
Me: I'm telling the story okay? Jesus. Get over it.
Father: *rolls eyes* Get on with it.
Me: So basically I want to say first off, my number one fear isn't death. My number one fear is being forgotten. The idea that one day nobody will remember me and I'm dead. Do I really exist at all in this world? Does it really mean anything? No. At least not for me, not right now.
Of course, me being me, I had to really test this fear. See what would happen. Now faking my own death would be tragic and awful and a lot of work and money. I did the next best thing. I left the country for a year. I mean I was out volunteering and being nice so I think I get points for that. That's gotta count against my Hail Mary count for something. Don't forget to subtract that!
Father: It doesn't work-
Me: Hang on! I'm not done!
Father: Oh. Continue... *Sneaks a look at his watch*
Me: Well, I left. I knew it would be hard. There were multiple reasons for going I mean, it wasn't just cause I wanted to see if people would forget me. But I stopped posting on Facebook. Stopped commenting on group chats. I only sent the occasional birthday well wish. It was a great time to kind of be an outsider. Then everyone got busy. Life did as it normally does and swept everyone up. Now, I had probably too much free time. Surfing the web, thinking about people, friends that I missed, foods I hadn't eaten in awhile. I was even thinking about this one girl I saw before I left. I miss her especially.
Father: If this is about a girl...
Me: No! It's not just about a girl! I promise!
Father: Okay...
Me: So, I'm guilty I got homesick at the beginning. I found it hard to talk to my friends. They were all so busy. And me being me I reached out harder and harder and felt the need to explain myself. It was a lot of double and triple texting. Not the best. I looked like a manic depressive person. One message would be all 'hey! what's up?' and then like two messages just talking about my life and then another message apologizing for being narcissistic and then one message to apologize for triple texting and so on and so forth.
Father: I'm confused. What's your sin?
Me: Don't you see Father? It's insecurity. I was being insecure. I was letting my fears get to me. I kept thinking that I really had been forgotten. The girl had found somebody else, it's not like we found somebody else. My old sports team had replaced me with someone better. My family were the only ones who missed me...
Father: *silently stares*
Me: It sounds pretty bad when put like that.
Father: Have you ever had a friend leave you for a year?
Me: Well yeah, there was the foreign exchange student. He was like a brother.
Father: You didn't forget him.
Me: Yeah, but I don't think people care as much about this kind of stuff as I do.
Father: Have faith.
Me: I do have Faith father. God's about the best friend I got from back home.
Father: This may be the only time I tell you not to worry about God. Have faith in your friends. They may be busy, but it sounds like you were equally as important to their lives as they were to yours. Have faith. Things may not be the same when you return, but you will still occupy a place in their lives.
Me: That's really comforting. Thank you Father!
Father: You're welcome. You're free to go.
Me: Wait! Don't I have like some form of penance to do?
Father: Uh, go pray five Our Fathers. You know that one right?
Me: Of course! Our Father, who art in heaven-
Father: Right! You got it! That's the one! Go say five of those. Somewhere outside the church.
Me: On it chief! Thank you Father!
Father: Amen.
*Father leaves the confession booth. He takes his clock in card and swipes it through a machine. It stamps his card. He removes his habit and collar and robes. He effectively clocks out.*
