i know that you’ve done. 

you’ve killed and raped and tortured and beaten and fought and destroyed and tortured and ruined

i know what you’ve done

and i forgive you

you’ve lived dominated by shame twisted into darkness wrapped into a comfortable blanket woven by self-loathing

And i still forgive you. 

i see you i know you i know what you’re thinking of the subtlety holds answers

you know it too. you know the lives you’ve ruined, i hardly need to tell you, reader. 

yes, you. 

i know the crimes you’ve committed that you only pretended to forget. 

and if you don’t, if you think you’re an exception then i pray, i pray for your sake, that you remember

and i know the lives i’ve ruined too. the evil i’ve exhaled the suffering i’ve creating with my magical hands

yet

i forgive myself. not really, but writing it makes it more likely to come true someday. 

i hope reading this does the same for you. 

but i forgive you as you are, and i love that most evil, that least worthy, that most historical self. 

that most hated and gross part. 

and i’ll keep loving it until you learn to too.