There’s not a day I don’t miss her. Not a day passed without her shadow lurking behind mine, clinching my conscience. I walk past those shadows and loathe how it resembles mine. How I’m becoming the very thing I hate about the very person I love. I can see how her mistakes are becoming mine and how my mistakes are becoming an embodiment of myself.
Contrary to popular belief, love does not heal anything nor does it play a role in mediating mistakes. Love is a natural process. It is a process to build as it is a process to destroy. In any comprehensible terms, love is still, within the limit of human understanding, unconditional. It simply means love is there and hey, do whatever you want with it.
But love will never discredit mistakes. The notion of love being the silent apologizer is preposterous. Why then do we have to beg for forgiveness from God for all our sins? Shouldn’t loving God suffice as an apology?
I know she will never admit her mistakes. I know she thinks that her mistakes are all justifiable and how they are not intended by her. I know she thinks she made them because she had no other choice. I know she feels that her mistakes weren’t even mistakes to begin with. I know all this, and despite my acute reasoning, I await the moment when I can prowl behind her back and nudge her repeatedly with accusing Aha-s.
My animosity is feeding my indifference. My indifference is feeding my ego. My ego is feeding me with 'principles'. And my principles is telling every other part of my conscience to shut the fuck up.
The fire is nearing. Is my bucket of water enough to keep me from burning myself? Will it be ever enough to wash away the fire altogether. Or will I fight fire with a more powerful fire and join the cycle?