Maybe I forgive you. Maybe I don't. Maybe I'm still hurting. Maybe I've grown. Some days I feel your pain. Some days you bruise me again. It's a push and pull, a seesaw a pendulum of hate and hurt that you and I are riding on. Every moment I must choose, whom to hurt... me or you. Most days I pull everything in and let myself rot silently within. Some days when I spill it all out. Eventually it's me who hurts as soon I'm flooded with guilt. Maybe things will change. Maybe they won't. Maybe I'll learn... Maybe you'll grow. Maybe someday you and I will be able to converse without the armor that believes every word is a blame. Maybe someday you and I will only listen. And not frantically run looking for answers when questioned about the choices we made.