I'm angry at people today. So angry I can barely stand it. I look at others and all I see is their flaws.

They are blind to the reality of the world around them, or don't know how things work and won't learn, or are suddenly missing when I've come to depend on their smiles. And all these disappointments fuel a rage, an indignation, that the world's used its vibrant color palette to paint people's natures in simple black or white. The gathering of those I wish I could care about presents itself as an uncomfortable assembly of angels and demons, and the view angers me.

The give-and-take of condemning aspects of a person while accepting their whole beings, which so many others seem to know well, eludes me.

I wish I could hate your sin alone, but I include you as its embodiment. When you reveal your first imperfection, I've seen enough. As for what it would be like to look at you and see other than your shortcomings, I can only wonder, as I decline to invite you for dinner.