“I can’t bring myself to forgive….”

Maria veers off mentally, fully knowing the barrage of words that would now be spewed out. She has heard it everyday for more than quarter of a century. She is kind of immune, but the idea of being stuck in a swamp stinks.

“I guess one should stop scraping wounds, when new skin starts growing. You kill the new before it has a chance to establish itself.”

“Do you think I enjoy the pain?” He acts hurt, as usual.

“No. You’re afraid of the new identity, that absence of this pain will give you.”


34 thoughts on “Afraid

  1. A great story, full of little gems of wisdom. Forgiving means letting go of something and having to fill that void with something else. Which takes a lot of courage. However, I can’t bring myself to blame people who have been hurt/abused so badly that they can’t forgive, not in many years, maybe not ever.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. There are those who cannot, for whatever reason, move beyond the pain. Not for wanting, it, but perhaps for feeling safer with something they at least know and feels familiar … and perhaps is part of the identity they’d formed. Always sad, but often judged in a way that in of itself makes them snail into another wound.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The more we know about the human state of mind the less able we seem to be able to sort out humanities problems. Your story made me think. Well done.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I find myself stuck while writing a nature poem. It strikes me that I’ve remained focussed on humans, and not focussed enough on nature. Your comment made me think if the approach is flawed.


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