So, questions asked by someone—
They fly through my mind, relentless, persistent.
Like I am some kind of menace for reacting,
For feeling, for living, for not quietly swallowing it all.

The question came, almost innocent, almost curious:
“Have you already forgiven him?”
Yes. God knows when. Or maybe I haven’t.
Maybe it’s because I never dug deep enough,
Because I never gave it all the attention it demanded.

I have forgiven him.
Forgiven, for the fact that I can look at him straight in the eyes,
Like nothing ever happened.
And yet, I am grateful that I never had to.
That I never saw him again after it all.

I gave myself permission to heal.
To focus on the parts of me I had neglected,
To tend to the wounds that only I could mend.
I let go of things I no longer need.
Things that only weighed me down, that tethered me to yesterday.

Declutter your mind, I tell myself.
Do not allow the unnecessary to clutter your thoughts.
Do not let it strangle your dreams,
Do not let unworthy people pull you down the rabbit hole.

Like Alice, I once fell, naive, curious, too trusting.
But I am not Alice. I am wiser now,
Or perhaps just mad, a little scarred,
Aware that some thoughts and feelings should never be invited in.

They live rent-free on my mind sometimes.
Unworthy, invasive, relentless.
I have learned to push them out,
To close the door firmly, lock it, and walk away.

I wish I could say I am the same as before.
That the old version of me still exists somewhere, intact.
But I am not that person anymore.
The old me feels distant, almost foreign.

Yet there is a quiet strength now.
A patience I didn’t have before.
A discernment that guides me through the noise,
Through the memories, through the half-healed scars.

I remember, yes. I remember everything.
Not to relive the pain,
But to honor it, acknowledge it, learn from it.
And to remind myself that I survived, that I grew.

I have learned that forgiveness is not a gift for them.
It is a gift for me.
For my own peace, my own sanity, my own growth.
It is not forgetting. It is not condoning. It is moving forward.

And moving forward is messy.
It is not linear.
It is not neat.
It is stepping into the chaos of life with a sense of purpose,
Even when the past tries to sneak back in.

I have healed enough to see what I need.
Enough to recognize what drains me, what harms me, what is unworthy.
And I will not fall for it again.
Not now. Not ever.

The old me would have let it consume me.
Would have obsessed over every word, every glance, every slight.
But the new me knows better.
I choose myself now, every day.

I am not bitter. Not truly.
I am cautious. I am wise. I am alert.
And I am grateful for the lessons,
Even if they came wrapped in pain.

So yes. I have forgiven.
I have moved on.
And I have grown.
Not Alice, not naive, not lost.
But stronger, clearer, finally free.