They say forgiveness is freedom. That it's noble. That it's a sign of greatness.
But nobody tells you that every act of forgiveness takes a piece of us with it - and leaves an emptiness that gets harder and harder to fill.
First you forgive a little thing. Something that's "not worth a fight". Then you let something a bit bigger slide, because - "people make mistakes". And then you find yourself in a maze of excuses you made up yourself, convincing yourself that you're the wiser one, the more patient one, the better one.
But what happens when you get lost in that maze?
When you stop recognizing yourself in the mirror because you tore down every one of your boundaries - just so someone else could be comfortable?
Forgiving is easy. What's hard is getting yourself back after you've forgiven too many times. Because every "it's fine" you say while your heart knows it isn't fine - turns into a wound.
And wounds, if you don't treat them, grow into scars that whisper that somewhere along the way you - gave up.
Maybe the real question is:
Not how many times we can forgive.
But - who are we even giving the right to hurt us that many times?
Because to forgive is human.
But to hold on to yourself - that is divine.