Forgiving

Forgiveness is such a delicate word as the connotation usually implies that you have been wronged and now you’re just supposed to get over it. It’s an ongoing practice that is continuously interwoven with new social actors. Since returning, I have met up with an individual that I thought I might never see again. While I may have uttered, “I forgive you” in the distant past, it wasn’t until seeing this person, did I believe myself. In all the nights that I have bemoaned over people, it takes seeing that particular person to finally feel the whole effect of the forgiving experience. And in actuality, I needed this person to forgive me too. Forgive me for being such a coward in all those times that I thought it might be easier to just slip away.

In addition, a couple weekends ago, I found myself in an environment that included a woman of my past who I had once declared and vehemently believed that if I could control lightning bolts, I would send them her away. She was involved in a scenario that had broken my young unadulterated heart for the first time. But as I walked out of the pub bathroom, and noticed her sitting in my seat amongst my friends, I no longer felt the intense need to call upon the power of Zeus. Instead, I made a joke which poked fun at the situation and laughed in tummy-hurting fashion at my own expense. The past anger had managed to be swallowed like the last sips of my cranberry vodka seven. I had forgiven her. 

Yours, 

P. xo.