I thought forgiving was easy.
It had been a sleepless night. I remember gazing through the white ceiling of my room that had gone dark. I was tired, but just couldn’t sleep. Myself reminded me of a baby who was drained of all her energy and yearned for a sleep but ended up only crying all night.
Wondered if day was a man, it might be so devastating to wake up with the reality that night wasn’t as long as it seemed to give him a damn rest. I either needed a rest, but this mind was too rapid to give me what I wanted. Of course, not that memory. I hated it winding up wallowing on this part of my head where I kept all those things ready to dispose. Things I should not have reached any more.
Hated it when it ended up like this.
Sometimes I thought I have forgiven some people, until time like this I realized that I kept remembering things. How I felt, how I’ve been treated, the pain and everything.
Maybe people are right (oh they’re always right). The wound heals, the scar remains.
Thought forgiving was that easy.
There are some people who are destined to have a tough life. That they grow up to become the one with tougher self. Tougher than anyone else. And, sometimes it turns out not becoming an option for them. They just can’t quit. They just have to deal with it. They just have to be tough. They just have to. Or… They’ll die giving up.
“I dreamed of him last night,” that was the first thing she said when she noticed I was entering the room. She did not even bother to check who was coming. But she knew, it was me.
She was half lying on the single sofa she put in front of her desk, and rested her head on one side of the arm rest with both feet hanging on the other side. Her eyes were fixed to the window presenting the shadowy afternoon. But she was not really looking. I knew her mind was somewhere else. Maybe around the dream she just had last night.
“Him? That boy?” I asked her just to make sure because it was almost couple months ago since the last time she talked about that man I only knew from her story. I thought she had forgotten him. And I told her exactly that. Continue reading
not in love. wholehearted; sincere.
… it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ the shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole. –William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 1623
“What,” said he, “have I flirted with so many girls in my own way of life, and come away heart-whole, and now to fall in love with a gentlewoman, who would bid her footman show me the door if she knew of my presumption!” –Charles Reade, Put Yourself in His Place, 1870
Heart-whole came to English in the 1400s from late Middle English.