I for one have never considered pride to be a sin.
To the contrary, I am Korean. And there are few things more important to a Korean than one's pride. I am proud of myself, and of my achievements. I am proud of all the things I can do.I am proud of being a woman and a feminist and a student. I am proud of my friends, and I am proud to be their friend. I am a proud sort of person, and I am proud of that.
I have often found it strange, and then strangely satisfying, that when people broke my heart, or ruined my reputation, or humiliated or abandoned me - well, it hurt, but it was my pride that hurt more. It is gratifying, even in the depths of despair, to know that solving the problem doesn't involve trying to coerce someone back; it's about getting yourself back. It was my pride that made me lash out, made me fight back, made me rebuild what was lost brick by boring brick, made me crawl my way to the top. I am too proud to admit defeat, and because of that I have never let anyone have the last word. And of that, I am proud. I am not a pushover. I will be a force to be reckoned with. People shouldn't feel entitled to knock me around. You can hurt me, humiliate me, abandon me. I will get through anything. If you knock me down I will stand back up. And I do not depend on anyone.
The people who love me know who I am. They know my strength and my flaws. They know that I am loyal, and I am proud to be loyal. They know that all the things people say about me is just talk, and that people have been slandering me my whole life even though I am nothing, less than nothing. They know that I can be irrational and I do not always have control over my actions or my temper, but I always try my hardest to do what is right; and if it does not appear to be so, I can always explain myself. I had thought that I had surrounded myself with people who are as indulgent and as forgiving as I hope to be, that I had surrounded myself with people who realize that sometimes misunderstandings are perceived as malice, but everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. I had hoped that people loved me enough to give me a chance to explain myself. I have never thought badly of my friends, always defended them until undeniable proof forced me to do otherwise. When you have been slandered your whole life you learn not to believe talk. I forget sometimes that some people have not received this harsh education.
I had always prided myself in the fact that my friends swear that they would never think badly of me. They know what a proud person I am, and they know how hard it is for me to swallow my pride, but I had thought that they would know I would do anything, even swallow my pride, for them. It hurts more than anything that, after so long, after all the things I have been through with some people, that they instinctively think that I am in the wrong, that I would stoop low and be enough of an idiot to think to get away with it, rather than consider that everything will be alright if I just have a chance to explain myself. It hurts more than anything that people go back on their promises, or conveniently forget them. It hurts more than anything that you would think badly of me, after all this time and after everything that has happened.