A Farewell to My Favorite Spot

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Hey, Bench.

I used to see you everyday and look forward to being with you. I can’t even begin to remember how many times I laughed and cried in your presence. And how many times I was just glad to be there and not anywhere else.

It would always piss me off to find you occupied. I guess I was just so naive and possesive that I couldn’t see that I’m not the only one capable of appreciating your perfection. I seem to be deluded in thinking that you were made for me and myself alone. Deluded, because I thought I had somehow earned something like you just by being.

I’m writing to you because now you’re going through changes that might alter whatever we have forever. Being caught in the middle of these changes, I feel afraid of not being able to recognize you anymore, of not being able to call you mine anymore, or worst of all, losing you altogether. I admit that it’s my fault for being so attached. And for crazily thinking that what we had was too big to fail.

But now I know. God, do I know now. That perfection can’t be earned. That beauty can’t be, by repeated expression of ownership, owned. And we fool ourselves – I have fooled myself – in thinking that I somehow deserve you. That I own you. That I could always just leave and find you there waiting for me. That the ground upon which you stood will never crumble.

I know now that beauty is only beautiful because it is apart from us. That is why we always long and always yearn for it. And it is when we cease to long and yearn and fight for it that we lose sight of it, even as we hold it in our hands or sit upon it.

I regret never having to properly express how beautiful you are. I was so focused on expressing how happy I was with you; how you made me feel, rather than what I see in you. I wish I did. Maybe then I wouldn’t find you being taken away from me.

But now, all there is to say is goodbye. And I hope whatever change happens to you, it won’t remove whatever it was that made you beautiful from the beginning.

I will always have our memories tucked inside the confides of my heart. And these words. And this picture. And while it fails to capture the immensity of your value and your beauty and your heart, it shall at least remind me that nothing ever will. It will also remind me how lucky I was to have found you.

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Forgiveness

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We sometimes harbor feelings toward other people as they refuse to extend us their forgiveness, as if we were entitled to it or as if those people are duty-bound to extend it to us.

I think this is a failure on our part as we lack understanding of the nature of mercy and justice. Forgiveness is unlike punishment or reward which are earned or deserved. It is an act of mercy, borne wholly out of the giver’s desire to forgive.

Such makes forgiveness truly ‘divine’, in the sense that its possible giver is put upon a place of utter power and control over the person who seeks it. When we seek forgiveness, we subject ourselves literally under the mercy of the person we want it from.

That is why it is a contradicting notion to feel embittered whenever we are refused forgiveness. We are not entitled to it. We are beggars whenever we need it.

On the other hand, this makes true forgiveness a difficult feat. It is hard to give up the position of power we acquire whenever are wronged. It is hard to look beyond the pain and the hurt we suffered and let the wrongdoer get away with it.

To forgive is difficult because it to do it is to deny ourselves justice. Therefore, while it takes humility to ask for forgiveness, it also takes humility to give it, for it takes humility to deny ourselves of what we properly deserve.

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It’s so hard to be passionate about things and find out that they mean little to other people. It feels as if you’re living in an imaginary world, where the hierarchy of importance things have are messed up. And when you’ve little self-esteem, you doubt whether they truly matter in the first place.