There are some that I haven't talked to since last year. People who knew a lot. People who I confided in, whined to, whatever you would like to call it. But in the past week or so, I've seen them again. We've spoken in passing; but, I've noticed something. They treat me the same. They act like I'm the same fragile, pathetic little girl running around with tears perpetually streaming from her eyes. Can't they see me? Don't they realize I'm not like that anymore? Can't they tell that there's almost always a smile on my face? Don't they realize that I don't need my hand to be held anymore? I've forgiven the one who hurt me so badly. Who scarred me for what I thought would be life. But forgiveness led to the healing that I needed. And I'm fine now. I'm great. But they don't believe it. They think that this is only a short phase that I will let go of and fall back into sadness. Back into the darkness. But it's been a year. Almost exactly. And I'm so different. I can sleep through the night now. I don't cry at every tiny upsetting thing. I don't need him. I've forgiven him. I'm fine. I'm great. I'm wonderful.
So why can't they see?
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