The Art of Forgiveness

Silly, Outlandish, yet Splendid (Past 14)

Marc sat down at his desk once Blumiere finally fell asleep, pulling out his inkwell, quill, and notebook.

He didn't title the top of the page with a date like usual. Instead, he allowed his mind to stop trying so hard and let his heart and his hand take control. He filled pages upon pages with words. Was it messy and unorganized? Most likely. That's how life was, though. 

He kept writing and writing. Whenever his hand would start to cramp, he would simply switch which one he was writing with. He wasn't as good at writing with his left hand, but he didn't want to stop and ruin the flow. 

He stopped trying to write in a structured format and simply allowed himself to just write a story, HIS story.

He wrote about all kinds of things. About the sky, about light, about dark, about the books he's read, about the stories he's been told, about the people he's met, and about the future he would have. He couldn't even keep track of everything he wrote down. He stopped thinking of his writing as an assignment and started thinking of it as a way to express thoughts and inner emotions. He was finally starting to see how horribly dull perfection was. His entire life was sheltered and boring simply because he was striving so hard for perfection. He never allowed himself to write whatever came to his mind on the pages because he was afraid of making mistakes. 

Meeting Merlon was technically a mistake. Marc knew now that it was the mistakes that will often lead to the greatest things. 

He wrote a story about a man. A man who didn't truly live until he was finally brave enough to step outside and take a risk. He wrote the story of a beautiful girl who was confused. He wrote the story of a powerful leader who must have had reasons behind his cruelty. He wrote the story of his best friend, who had shown him light and made him realize that there was value in himself.

Once he finally made it to the final page, he let out a sigh. His hands were both shaking and cramping. He was exhausted and tired. He wasn't sure how long he had been writing by then. It had gone past the point where he saw the sun rise and set outside of his window. 

He smiled to himself, then pressed his quill to the final page.

There's a magic that comes with forgiveness. It's a power that I cannot quite explain. We strive for others to forgive us for the mistakes they make, but no one ever talks of the feeling the individual giving the forgiveness will be hit with. It is like a weight is being lifted off of me for good. I realize now that by withholding my forgiveness, I was hurting myself more than anyone else. 
That doesn't mean everyone deserves forgiveness. I am simply saying... sometimes, people should forgive others, not because others deserve it, but because they deserve that inner peace. They deserve the opportunity to move forward and continue living.
Still, it is quite hard to forgive. 
I'm not talking about forgiving others. Forgiving others is easy. The challenge was forgiving myself for not being enough for her. The challenge was forgiving myself for everything. 
The art of forgiveness is still not a concept I have mastered. I'll be the first to admit that I am flawed. However... I want to try. I want to really try, for myself and for my child. Perhaps if the world was more forgiving, we wouldn't be at war. There are good people on both sides. There doesn't need to be separation or fighting. If we as a people learn to forgive, we can move forward and become stronger. We can become happier. 
I forgive you both. For everything. For every tear you've made me shed and for every time you've made me feel worthless. I know deep down, you're both good people in some way. Danielle, you were kind, strong, and fearless. You lived your life to the fullest. Even kind people can do hurtful things, and even though you've hurt me, a part of me will always still love you because I know you still have a good heart.
The sun has just set on another day. You were buried last night. I haven't seen you yet. I wanted to attend the funeral, but I didn't want to be surrounded by dozens of people giving me pity. I will be visiting you often on my own, with Blumiere of course. I won't let him forget you, and will try to fill your shoes to give him the life he deserves. I'll keep him safe, while also letting him grow into his own person, just as I believe you would have wanted.
I wish you all the best, and as always, I am going to continue to try. I'll try to be brave, I'll try to be smart, I'll try to be good.
Most importantly, I'll try to be forgiving.
With much love, Marc