The World we live

The Battel to Forgive

I used to think that time would heal everything.
That the wounds they left, the scars they carved into my heart,
would one day fade into faint memories.
But here I am, still carrying the weight of their betrayal
like a stone lodged deep in my chest.
I've built walls so high around me,
thinking they would protect me from ever feeling that pain again.
But those walls, they became a prison.
They kept out the world,
but they also kept me trapped inside.

There was a time I thought I was strong
for holding onto my anger.
I told myself it was justice—
that they didn't deserve my forgiveness,
that letting go would make me weak.
But the bitterness was like poison in my veins,
a darkness that spread slowly, quietly,
until it consumed everything I touched.

People would say,
"Forgive, not for them, but for yourself."
But how could I?
How could I release that anger
when it was the only thing holding me together?
How could I let go
when the memory of their words, their actions,
still played in my mind like a cruel, broken record?

But the truth is, I was tired.
Tired of the weight that made it hard to breathe,
tired of carrying the hurt that kept me awake at night.
I realized that the chains I thought were protecting me
were only tightening around my own heart.
I was locked in a cage of my own making,
and the only key to set myself free
was a word I could barely whisper: forgive.

So, I started small.
I didn't wake up one morning, suddenly unburdened.
It was a slow, quiet battle—
a fight to loosen my grip on the past,
to release the anger, bit by bit.
Some days, it felt impossible.
Some days, I fell back into that familiar darkness,
letting it swallow me whole.
But other days, there was a lightness in my step,
a moment where the air felt just a bit clearer,
where I could see the world not through the lens of pain,
but with the hope of something better.

Forgiveness wasn't for them—
it was a gift to myself,
a way to reclaim the parts of me
that I had lost to bitterness and sorrow.
I had to forgive not because they deserved it,
but because I did.
I deserved to be free,
to unshackle my heart and breathe again.

So here I am, not fully healed,
not entirely unbroken.
But I am lighter than I was yesterday,
and perhaps tomorrow, I'll be lighter still.
For in forgiving, I'm not letting them off the hook—
I'm letting myself go,
releasing my soul from the prison I once called strength.

Because forgiveness isn't about forgetting.
It's about choosing peace over pain,
letting go, not for their sake, but for mine.
And maybe, just maybe,
there's freedom in that after all.