My mother used to tell me to never hold grudges against people, to understand the reasons behind their wrongdoings and to forgive and forget. I never understood why she would say so, until I did. I am not certain if I understood it correctly, but I surely have learned to forgive and forget. All thanks to the guy who had the heart to see me cry and not console, all thanks to him for now I know how to never hold grudges, for now I know better than to yell and shout for what was never mine.
I used to look straight into his eyes and see myself in them, my bright, expectant smile and my eyes shining in his. I used to see me in him and feel like that is where I belong for this life and all to come after. To me, I was for no one but him; all my breaths dedicated to be breathed around him, all my moments lived to be shared with him and all my emotions made to be felt for him or in remembrance of him.
I used to see myself as two persons, him being a little more significant than my own being. When we held hands, I felt like holding just a part of me, a part that I could never possibly lose to anything in the world, however powerful. I was in love; I was for love and all about it, never imagining I would have to bleed so badly from where I breathe some day.
I never really paid attention to my mother’s idea of forgiveness, not until I was with him, for him. My world was a happy place where I chirped like a bird around a tree that was him; it had flowers of all colors, flowers that, if ever gone bad, could be watered back to life. - Continue reading on next page