It scares me to think how slow a connection can build up and how fast it can split. Mere days - or even minutes - I tell you. There is a kind of aura in this room right now that spells forgiveness although I have yet to decipher its purpose. The purpose of forgiving and forgetting. Is it really that easy to do? Why is it that shows on tv make it look so heartbreaking and sacrificial? Don't the people know forgiving is as simple as accepting? God forgave us, and we can't forgive a person?
When I first entered the year I came in with an open heart, constantly having self-reminders of me being only 16 and that I can make all the mistakes I want. But it did not occur to me that by making these mistakes, I would soon be thrusted into the realm of identifying with who I really was. And that was by far the mistake I regretted most, because it has made me into someone who isn't as relatable as myself, and someone who does not care how her little mistakes could translate into secret weapons of blurring this image of...myself.
I am in the midst of picking up those fragile pieces of my identity, fitting them back into the mould I blew them away from. This is infliction to oneself, isn't it? Even as I recollect these tiny bits and pieces, all I can think of is how unbelievably stupid I was to even think that a new change would make my past forgettable. Forgivable. The whole effort of wanting to pursue this new chapter just backfired at me and all I did was let it be the entire time? Maybe I hadn't known yet. Or maybe I just was not ready to let go.
Maybe I was in denial? Either way, I still can find myself walking back and forth an unassuming path of decisions. There are many of them to make but all I want to do is lay back and think. Of the many possibilities scattered before my eyes, of the different kinds of people I would love to forgive. And forget.
When I first entered the year I came in with an open heart, constantly having self-reminders of me being only 16 and that I can make all the mistakes I want. But it did not occur to me that by making these mistakes, I would soon be thrusted into the realm of identifying with who I really was. And that was by far the mistake I regretted most, because it has made me into someone who isn't as relatable as myself, and someone who does not care how her little mistakes could translate into secret weapons of blurring this image of...myself.
I am in the midst of picking up those fragile pieces of my identity, fitting them back into the mould I blew them away from. This is infliction to oneself, isn't it? Even as I recollect these tiny bits and pieces, all I can think of is how unbelievably stupid I was to even think that a new change would make my past forgettable. Forgivable. The whole effort of wanting to pursue this new chapter just backfired at me and all I did was let it be the entire time? Maybe I hadn't known yet. Or maybe I just was not ready to let go.
Maybe I was in denial? Either way, I still can find myself walking back and forth an unassuming path of decisions. There are many of them to make but all I want to do is lay back and think. Of the many possibilities scattered before my eyes, of the different kinds of people I would love to forgive. And forget.
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