29.1.05
So yeah.
I must learn to forgive. I still haven’t been able to do that no matter how hard I try. Of course that just means I am not trying hard enough.
Try. Try. Try.
Forgive, forgive, forgive.
So simple to say, but to do…. It’s a foreign concept to me. I hold grudges. They crawl under my skin. Most of the time they go unnoticed. But when they spring up the rash is just too irritating. The festering wound tears my skin apart. I cannot help but furiously scratch away at it. Which then, of course, leads to opening up more wounds.
Try. Try.
Forgive, even though forgiveness may not be coming back to me. Forgive, even though I may not deserve your forgiveness.
Talking behind someone’s back is always inevitable. Everybody does it. I do not care that people do that. But to say cruel things and then still pretend to be a friend is something I have a very hard time dealing with. So I am a nightmare, and I am violent, and my parents buy my love, and it’s amazing how someone can put up with living with me. I get that you don’t think too highly of me. Why, then, is it that you had to continue being my friend? I gossip, yes. Is that why? You just wanted to hear the dirt on other people? And why must people totally ignore me at some times but not when you want a place to hang? It did not bother me that people wanted to use my couch. It bothered me more that one person would come over and then ask me to invite other people. If you wanted that in the first place, that’s all you had to say.
Everyone is a hypocrite, me included. I know that. I do. But if it means being cruel to someone, that’s where I have problems. For example, why make fun of a boyfriend and a girlfriend who happen to like spending time with one other? Why make fun of them, when you do that too? At least they don’t hang onto one another all the time. They don’t do pda everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care if you hang w/your sig other or do pda. I care when you make fun of other couples, even though they don’t do that stuff but you do. And why think of me badly when you know the things I’ve done with people and when you know the things I do for fun? Why are you to judge? Did those things change who I was?
Ah, but why must I say these things? The past is the past. I couldn’t forgive then. That was partly the reason why I continued to stay closed off and bitter. Which, of course, fueled other people to continue hating me. I know I was closed off even in the very beginning. But that’s just who I am.
Try.
Forgive all the wrongdoings of others.
I am a bitch. I never said I wasn’t. I’m not the most delightful of all people. And I wouldn’t want to change. I like who I am.
Forgive. Forgive myself, for not wanting to change into something better.
If I can’t forgive the past, how am I ever to move onto the future? I want to put it behind me. I don’t want to forget, though. I never understood that: forgive and forget. Why forget? To me, memory is the only thing that makes a person who they are. We are a product of our past. Why forget about things that make us who we are?
Forgive. Stop being so stubborn.
Ah, yes. I’m stubborn. I was born in 84, the year of the rat. Of course I’d be stubborn. I’m very bullheaded when it comes to things. And there’s no reason for me to be stubborn on this, forgiveness. Too stubborn to let things go. I know it was high school. People should not be judged on their high school years. Life always changes a person. Experience changes a person. So why can’t I forgive? I can. I know I can. And I do. I forgive myself for not being able to forgive way back when. I forgive all who made my life just a stitch harder. At least I’m trying to.
Try. Try. Try.
Well I am. I am trying. Hard as I possibly can because that’s what makes people different from other animals. We have the power to forgive. To forgive those who have wronged us. To forgive those who will wrong us. To forgive those who are wronging us. We can cleanse our souls as well as other souls. We are here only for each other.
Forgive. Ok, I got the memo.
I’m eating mac and cheese with shrimp. I’m drinking Pibb Xtra. I’m watching myself type these words on my screen and wondering if it’s all actually true. Am I just kidding myself? Can I really change my outlook on life in one very long statement? Can I make who I am different by confronting myself? By truly delving deep within me to see the true ugliness of my own heart? Am I able to vaccinate myself against, well, myself? I think I can. At least, I hope I can. I want to believe I can. Can I? What does it take for me to change myself? I know I’ve caused a lot of hurt onto others. I’ve burned about as many bridges as I’ve built. I drown in the water of my own making. Can I forgive myself for doing horrible things to other people? Must I necessarily forgive myself before I can let others forgive me?
Try. Check.
I honestly hope these words are not as shallow as I think my heart is.
I say this because I genuinely miss some of my friends. I was lucky to be able to hang out with such an open and cool crowd. I hate bad endings. Endings should always be good. In books, movies, and even in relationships. If anything else, people generally only remember the endings. Well I don’t. I don’t know why I just closed off and ended some relationships. I just stopped communicating, and that’s a shame. I do still want to be friends. I want to make the effort. But I can’t take that first step. I cut my leg shaving today. Small nicks like that can ooze out much blood. It mixed with the water running down and a river red flowed down my leg and ankle onto the floor and down the drain. Water spreads the red, making it seem much worse than it really is. I didn’t even feel the cut but I saw the blood. I couldn’t help but stare. It was almost mesmerizing. It was as if I was trying to will the cells to stop running down my leg. Then I realized that was my problem. I stare at it like I can will it to fix itself, but it can’t—which is what I do to most of my problems. There’s no effort involved. I cannot do that anymore. It’s no way to live. So I’m taking the leap. I’m extending my hand. I’d rather start all over fresh than lose some of the best things I had. How appropriate. “Why Can’t We Be Friends” just came on my windows media player. Huh.
Forgive, my friend. It will save us all.
And I do. I forgive. And I’m sorry I didn’t do that when I should have.
I must learn to forgive. I still haven’t been able to do that no matter how hard I try. Of course that just means I am not trying hard enough.
Try. Try. Try.
Forgive, forgive, forgive.
So simple to say, but to do…. It’s a foreign concept to me. I hold grudges. They crawl under my skin. Most of the time they go unnoticed. But when they spring up the rash is just too irritating. The festering wound tears my skin apart. I cannot help but furiously scratch away at it. Which then, of course, leads to opening up more wounds.
Try. Try.
Forgive, even though forgiveness may not be coming back to me. Forgive, even though I may not deserve your forgiveness.
Talking behind someone’s back is always inevitable. Everybody does it. I do not care that people do that. But to say cruel things and then still pretend to be a friend is something I have a very hard time dealing with. So I am a nightmare, and I am violent, and my parents buy my love, and it’s amazing how someone can put up with living with me. I get that you don’t think too highly of me. Why, then, is it that you had to continue being my friend? I gossip, yes. Is that why? You just wanted to hear the dirt on other people? And why must people totally ignore me at some times but not when you want a place to hang? It did not bother me that people wanted to use my couch. It bothered me more that one person would come over and then ask me to invite other people. If you wanted that in the first place, that’s all you had to say.
Everyone is a hypocrite, me included. I know that. I do. But if it means being cruel to someone, that’s where I have problems. For example, why make fun of a boyfriend and a girlfriend who happen to like spending time with one other? Why make fun of them, when you do that too? At least they don’t hang onto one another all the time. They don’t do pda everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care if you hang w/your sig other or do pda. I care when you make fun of other couples, even though they don’t do that stuff but you do. And why think of me badly when you know the things I’ve done with people and when you know the things I do for fun? Why are you to judge? Did those things change who I was?
Ah, but why must I say these things? The past is the past. I couldn’t forgive then. That was partly the reason why I continued to stay closed off and bitter. Which, of course, fueled other people to continue hating me. I know I was closed off even in the very beginning. But that’s just who I am.
Try.
Forgive all the wrongdoings of others.
I am a bitch. I never said I wasn’t. I’m not the most delightful of all people. And I wouldn’t want to change. I like who I am.
Forgive. Forgive myself, for not wanting to change into something better.
If I can’t forgive the past, how am I ever to move onto the future? I want to put it behind me. I don’t want to forget, though. I never understood that: forgive and forget. Why forget? To me, memory is the only thing that makes a person who they are. We are a product of our past. Why forget about things that make us who we are?
Forgive. Stop being so stubborn.
Ah, yes. I’m stubborn. I was born in 84, the year of the rat. Of course I’d be stubborn. I’m very bullheaded when it comes to things. And there’s no reason for me to be stubborn on this, forgiveness. Too stubborn to let things go. I know it was high school. People should not be judged on their high school years. Life always changes a person. Experience changes a person. So why can’t I forgive? I can. I know I can. And I do. I forgive myself for not being able to forgive way back when. I forgive all who made my life just a stitch harder. At least I’m trying to.
Try. Try. Try.
Well I am. I am trying. Hard as I possibly can because that’s what makes people different from other animals. We have the power to forgive. To forgive those who have wronged us. To forgive those who will wrong us. To forgive those who are wronging us. We can cleanse our souls as well as other souls. We are here only for each other.
Forgive. Ok, I got the memo.
I’m eating mac and cheese with shrimp. I’m drinking Pibb Xtra. I’m watching myself type these words on my screen and wondering if it’s all actually true. Am I just kidding myself? Can I really change my outlook on life in one very long statement? Can I make who I am different by confronting myself? By truly delving deep within me to see the true ugliness of my own heart? Am I able to vaccinate myself against, well, myself? I think I can. At least, I hope I can. I want to believe I can. Can I? What does it take for me to change myself? I know I’ve caused a lot of hurt onto others. I’ve burned about as many bridges as I’ve built. I drown in the water of my own making. Can I forgive myself for doing horrible things to other people? Must I necessarily forgive myself before I can let others forgive me?
Try. Check.
I honestly hope these words are not as shallow as I think my heart is.
I say this because I genuinely miss some of my friends. I was lucky to be able to hang out with such an open and cool crowd. I hate bad endings. Endings should always be good. In books, movies, and even in relationships. If anything else, people generally only remember the endings. Well I don’t. I don’t know why I just closed off and ended some relationships. I just stopped communicating, and that’s a shame. I do still want to be friends. I want to make the effort. But I can’t take that first step. I cut my leg shaving today. Small nicks like that can ooze out much blood. It mixed with the water running down and a river red flowed down my leg and ankle onto the floor and down the drain. Water spreads the red, making it seem much worse than it really is. I didn’t even feel the cut but I saw the blood. I couldn’t help but stare. It was almost mesmerizing. It was as if I was trying to will the cells to stop running down my leg. Then I realized that was my problem. I stare at it like I can will it to fix itself, but it can’t—which is what I do to most of my problems. There’s no effort involved. I cannot do that anymore. It’s no way to live. So I’m taking the leap. I’m extending my hand. I’d rather start all over fresh than lose some of the best things I had. How appropriate. “Why Can’t We Be Friends” just came on my windows media player. Huh.
Forgive, my friend. It will save us all.
And I do. I forgive. And I’m sorry I didn’t do that when I should have.
# posted by Nikki @ 01:14 
