To (Not) Forgive and Forget

The Holy Week is long gone and yet, I'm still stuck thinking about the forgiveness business. Because unlike other Christians, I didn't do much of forgiving during the Lenten season.

Okay, I admit. I'm not a very forgiving person. Those who really know me know that. I'm not ashamed that I've grown up having a hard rime forgiving others. Although I'm not exactly proud of it either. Not holding a grudge is still the furthest thing from my mind. Because I do my best not to callously treat people, I don't appreciate them doing that to me. That's why I don't get it when people act cruelly. It's as if they won't mind if others treat them that away.

But I'm not that unforgiving. When people act too insensitively without knowing it (because, God forgive them, that's just the way they are) or when they say sorry sincerely enough (I know how hard that is), then the only choice is to forgive and forget. No hard feelings. Most likely, they've offended me because they don't know me at all.

It's when people I trust and, I thought, who knew me that I have a hard time looking the other way. Why be so mean? I didn't do anything wrong to them. Why manufacture lies about me? I'm just living my life. Aha, I know! They just enjoy being the conniving, backstabbing, avaricious, scum-of-the-earth, low-as-shit, two-faced, asshole-ish jerks of a dickhead kind that they are. They can grovel (fat chance!) or cry blood (yeah, right--it's not blood that runs in their veins) but I still won't forgive them. No, wait. Maybe after seventy-five years I'll start contemplating about forgiving them.

I know. B-I'm b-such b-a b-bitch. I'm may be beyond redemption. But I hope The Man Upstairs will forgive those who intentionally transgress against me, my family, and my friends. I sure as hell can't. Even after, say, seventy-five years and half a second later (because that's all the time I need to 'contemplate' about forgiving them).

(Originally posted at The Kookie Jar.)