Diaries #6

About spicy pizza and forgiving

Do you really need a description?

Some nights I convince myself that there is nothing better in this world than finally get to experience the Sex and the City feeling of being single in a metropolis. Like yeah, at the end of a very long day, with a couple of failed dating beyond me, I can eventually relax and enjoy a pizza in my bed watching my favourite movie (which happens to be Breakfast at Tiffany’s).

It is all extremely romantic until, after the very first bite, I understand I ordered a spicy pizza. A very very spicy one. A truly fucking spicy one. And I am not used to spicy food, so my perfectly-pictured night suddenly became hell. I can’t eat further than a single slice of that pizza, and even my favourite movie doesn’t seem so enjoyable anymore.

That’s the usual moment in which I start writing.

Something’s gone shitty and it is all between me and my ghosts. So I start thinking the burning side of eating a too spicy pizza has something to do with forgiving. 
I mean, I have never questioned myself about forgiving, because it just seemed something too Christian to be taken into consideration. In fact, it isn’t. I have never thought about forgiving because I have been a horrible person.

It has been a month or two now, that all I do is trying to forgive myself and another particular person. But, for the first time, myself comes first. Not because of my inner strength, self consciousness or so; I just found out I can’t survive if don’t work on my very personal forgiving. I literally can’t.
I’ve done such bad things, and I swear I have never been so sorry in my whole life. And being sorry is another thing good persons often do, and I have never experienced this feeling in depth.

I am sorry for a series of mistakes of mine, and a series of exceptionally immature and mean behaviour I have had throughout the past twenty years, but in particular throughout the very last one.
The consciousness of what I was doing always accompanied me, but it was never as loud as today. I can hear my demons shouting at me “What the f*ck did you do Beatrice?”. I can’t ignore them now. I am facing those demons, answering them with my worst pities and my dirtiest behaviours.

I am facing all the worst I have been, and I am sure that despite all the hardships it bears, this is going to be a moment of growth.

The biggest sorrow just comes when I am alone. It is easy to find some shield behind the cheap dating and the random sex. I had been doing that for my whole life. It is different now, because I can’t possibly enjoy cheap dating or random sex anymore. I see all the effort I should have put into that love, and I feel even more sorry for haven’t being able to understand it at the right time.

I am sorry, but I am happy because this forgiving process is helping me. I am struggling when I wake up in the morning to overcome the shame and regrets. This is the only reason I keep going and my only will: accepting who I am, with my flaws and weaknesses, forgiving me and then work hard to become better and adult and never fall into my mistakes again.

I wish I could be as conscious a couple of years ago, but I am becoming the best version of myself lately. I am now forced to do so. This is my only purpose, and I am sweating and bleeding so hard to solve my insecurities and to not give this burden to others. I just want to bear my problems on my own now.

I wish I could do that before, but now I get to know that loss and pain are the wiser and best teachers you can ever meet.

And nope, I will never order a spicy pizza again.

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