Just then, right in the middle of the brilliant monologue your defence attorney is delivering about all the things you’ve done and all the people who love you, the prosecution slides a note over to you, “Don’t ever forget, everybody hates you.”
You add it to the pile of notes he’s already given you, which read:
“No one will ever understand you in the way that you desperately want them to understand you.”
“You will watch all your favourite musicians kill themselves and all your movie stars will grow old.”
“Everything you’ve ever made has been trite and cliche and horrible. In fact anyone who’s ever said they’ve liked anything of yours has done so out of pity”
“One day you and someone you love will find yourself in a room and one of you will be dead and the other will wish they were.”
All of which he will later enter as Exhibit B in the long, drawn out court case to convict you of being simply pathetic and sad and useless at everything, really.
And yet your defence attorney carries on. And you know that sometimes, he’s fighting for your life.
I read this tonight for the first time on the floor of the poetry section at Barnes and Noble. Tonight I was reminded that no matter the charge against me, be it true or untrue . . . no matter how guilty I am . . . I have a defense attorney fighting for me and if I cling to Him, the Judge will find me to be innocent.
And that’s the beauty of grace.