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// "My Forgiveness" \\
(( 20/01/02 by HapyHzrd anada501 ))
\) ________________________________________________________________ (/
I never stick to my guns.
There, in one sentence I summed up forgiveness. You can give me the
classic argument about things being deeper, more complicated than that.
Things change, situations change, people change. Really?
So far, I've compromised under the most extreme of events. I, my
friends, am what the urban nomenclature would refer to as a "bitch." When
it got down to the dirty, I chose, and probably chose wrongly.
And to add another clichÈ to the tab, I suppose time will tell. As
the days turn to weeks, and the weeks span as well, I will decide which path
was best for me. And I will have chosen wrongly, because I have Attention
Deficit Disorder, and impulsiveness and negative decisions fit the mold of
the symptoms I possess.
As far as forcing myself goes, I'm not sure if that falls into the
role of the ADD or that's just plain bad luck. That's pretty much been the
dictum of my life, to force myself into bad decisions. I stipulate
observations from facts in situations, and I make poor, disgusting decisions
based on that. I accept it, as should you; everyone has some abhorrent
disability or flaw.
Here's something else for you; forgiveness is taken for granted.
Picture the average OWI driver (OWI is Operating While Intoxicated),
repugnantly bibulous, with his vicarious disregard for the law. Whether he
does his time, or pays his fine, there is an overwhelming chance that he
will again intoxicate himself and get behind the wheel. This is not to say,
once a criminal/always a criminal, but to say that once the punishment has
been adequately served out, that person is then only as faithful as their
options. I believe this can be true with almost anyone's story.
My, story, though, is a bit too personal to share within the confines
of text and imagination. I can only say this... my mother was right on all
four accounts: Never pass up a free lunch, there's no such thing as a free
lunch, don't play with fire if you don't wish to get burned, and some people
will say they love you and not really mean it. My mother: the Einstein of
nuclear families.
With the exception of say, anyone who's ever been in a personal
relationship, I must say that I feel uselessly alone on the subject of
forgiveness. I know there are those with the courage to stick to their
convictions, and then there are the tender daffodils that walk among us
and serve us pizza, get on TV shows like Change of Heart, and frequent pool-
halls to share a brew and a sob story of the latest in the Americana tragedy
that is their horrid, frangible life-style. We've all seen this beautiful
situation, we've all been there and been a part of her. We'll all visit her
again someday.
We all must own up to a certain stuffy truth: that human beings were
not designed to "let go," but instead meant to cherish and hold fond the
memories of those that became the enticing quality of what we strived to be,
to grasp the painful heartache of losing what was once yours so that we may
correct our mistakes in the future, and to pull closer the tenet formed by
the pantheon of heroes one surrounds themselves with, to learn from, to
grant acceptance and receive acceptance from as the same token, to let
it become a part of us in turn.
This is, I believe in my shameless effrontery, my vision to guide the
non-believers to the holy land of truth and wisdom. You are not alone in
your repining discontent; I to was afraid of the shadows of loss and the
guilt and humiliation that always seems to follow. Those of us who are
strong enough to finally end it, wind up back in the chair, feverishly
strapping the electrodes once again to our head, offering to pull the switch
all the while. We are creatures of habit and self-abuse, and being a part
of another life is not something we vagabonds of destiny are willing to give
up easily, at least not without mulcting some pity from the guilty party.
So all in all, I would say forgiveness is a necessary evil. I am one
for second chances, and in order for a second chance to exist the
forgiveness must first light a feasible pathway. I only hope, for the sake
of human kind, that we one day are able to turn our backs in the hope of
repairing what was lost that may have been so dear, instead of feebly trying
to cling and nurture back to health what we would lovingly refer to as a
"dead horse."
One would ask, when is enough enough? Such is a rhetorical question,
and when prompted, you should respond with a quirky smile and a slap on the
wrist. For if you are being asked, then the one asking already knows the
answer: that it has been enough, and you are all but vanquished from the
depths of their torrid and loving embrace. But fear not, for they may be
amongst the tender daffodils, and that should be your one hope.
___________________________________________________________________
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