Water under the bridge

Sometimes (at most times, actually) holding a grudge can be so tiring and heavy. It’s like a rock tied to a sack that keeps pulling the sack deeper and deeper into the sea. Nothing good ever comes of it except and the sack eventually disappears, lonely and long forgotten at the bottom of the sea.

If it is lucky and manages to release itself from the rock, the sack would resurface but may not look the same. Staying buried deep in the sea would have loosened its fibers and over time some parts of the sack would have floated away.

Letting go off a grudge on the other hand is so much more relieving. The shoulder would feel lighter and carefree days are experienced. Yet, it has proved to be the harder choice.

Despite knowing the better deal, the mind wrestles with the heart, always giving into ego and pride. Isn’t the heart suppose to be the superior one? The one that decides between life and death with its every beat.

In rare occasions when revelation does happen and we decide to bury the hatchet, taking off from where we last left proves to be a challenge. Not an impossible task but a challenging one. The words forgiven and not forgotten starts chiming in. We become careful with each others word, almost like walking on thin ice, moving gently and carefully. Constantly worried of committing an error that might crumble the newly built bridge

So did we truly forgive each other when we cannot forget about the past?

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