In a world far far away from ours, I like to envision the people there. The beings, there. How they feel things, if at all. And how they express themselves. If they feel what’s right and what’s wrong, or if they know what forgiveness is, or if they even have a need for it. And if they do, how is it painted across their faces? Is it ugly? Or is it understood?
If they are able to understand the forgiveness, how do they express it? Through words, actions, being quiet, or taking no action at all? And if so, how stagnant does their love become once the ugliness of their forgiveness becomes quiet as snow?
Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe they have no desire for forgiveness because their wrongs don’t amount to rights, or their rights to their wrongs. How beautiful must that feel? What we all would give to feel flawless inside of our morals, never taking for granted the misery we fill ourselves up with just by misunderstanding forgiveness.
In that world so far, far away, how are apologies painted? Or have they all collectively come to the conclusion that they should not need to apologize for the space between our worlds, and we should not need to forgive them for it, simply because it was created that way.
It feels so immeasurably invalidating to confront the fact that we are as simple as children until the day that we die, and every day until then, we dress up in our suits and ties and parade the idea of forgiveness,
just hoping that we can become a martyr for it.