Forgive and Forget

The Road to Self-Love

I’m here, writing to whoever is reading this; Thankful for finding pieces of me in my own words, reading my story.

I often shatter within myself when it comes to the pain of loss. From losing my precious stones to precious people, I’ve shed tears. Call me materialistic and unhumble when I apologized for my reaction. For whatever their cruel actions were, I spoke my mind. I forgot everything within a couple of months and talked to them again. And then again. 

When I could forget and forgive so easily for gaslighting me, why was I dragged down and disowned when I sought forgiveness for a childish reaction?

Since many poets/ argue definitions of love/ 

I would crave a war/ on definition of a "friend" 

~Logophile 

I sought forgiveness not once, nor twice, but thrice. And the reply came as, “ I forgave you, but I will never forget!”

Forget what? Distancing me when I needed them most? Gaslighting me that I’m immature and showy? Calling me a “hypocrite” when I was in progress of being a writer? Competing with me over grades yet belittling my opinions and my perspectives? Talking behind my back? Being ditched? And then ridiculing me for coming back? Yes, I forgot everything done to my soul and mind. I buried pasts and they did not. I made a gravestone and they played with the soil.

I’m not calling myself clean of the blood on my hands. The blood is mine with a knife I was given. Perhaps, I was a child. But children have the purest intentions.

I shall never call myself innocent, I did react when my “friends” began suffocating me with expectations and disbelief. I shall not call myself unworthy because they made me believe I’m fortunate to have and won’t find, anyone like them.

Over years of being oppressed by people’s opinions, little clown girl makes a fool of herself, with twisted words and broken sentences. Still laughing at her own disrespect, and rather odd to see herself not laying a single tear for them or herself, all because she gathers her courage, her pain, as they say it her “egoistic anger”, all up and shuts her door on them. Her script needs no villains. Her stage needs no humiliation. Her soul needs no rust. She’s a happy person, let her go.

She is me.

After all this ludicrous and insignificant chapter in my real life’s blog, I come to terms with the lessons I could never have gotten elsewhere. To forgive and forget, with all your heart. No matter how brutal the person in front of me is, I need to speak according to my upbringing. My پرورش teaches me to forgive and make mends between two sorrowful souls. Three times, at least. And if they come again, at my door knocking; Believe me and you won’t when I say, you may come in. I’m not dumb; I’m forgiving and willing to give them a chance. My limit is till I’m alive, theirs is till I fall.

To the answers, I could never get…cheers. *toasts a glass of apple soda as champagne*

-Logophile