I forgive the fifth-floor window
who I once asked to swallow
me into the night.

I forgive the water who
once called out to me
when I walked above
its rushing currents.

I forgive the Aisle 10
in Home Depot
who once sold me
the razor blades
that kept my hoodie
on all summer.

I forgive the basement rafters
who once held the rope
that I planned to use
as my permanent escape.

I forgive the bathroom mirror
who once failed to disagree
when I sobbed to it
about the ugliness of
each feature on my face.

I forgive the scale who once
hurled numbers at me
without mentioning that
my weight was not
something to fret over.

I forgive the scars who
were once a release to me,
and who neglected to tell me
that they would not leave
even if I asked them to.

I forgive the pen whose ink
once helped write what I
thought would be my last words.

I forgive the doorknob who
once let me lock myself away
from everyone who loved me,
and who watched as I tried
to never come out again.

and above all,
I forgive the person
who I once hated most.

I forgive her for her anger,
and her hateful words,
and her nonstop cruelty.

I forgive her for
being the hardest person
I've ever had to forgive.

I forgive myself.