Forgiveness is Hard

    In my short 21 years of living I’ve seen and heard and felt so much wrong. I’ve done wrong things myself. Terrible things. I hear how people say there are things that they are not proud of; but what about things that we are ashamed of?

    When I was a child I took a kitten by it’s tail and swung it around. Why? Because it didn’t want to hug me. Yes, I know, that’s fucked up. But even though I’ve rescued so many kittens and animals from starvation, cold, or pain… I can never undo the damage I caused and that poor kitten will never now the sorrow and guilt I feel. How sorry I am and how much I wish I could make up for what I had done.

    But humans can. They can make up for the sins they’ve committed. When I say “sin” I don’t mean religiously, I mean spiritually; that gut wrenching sickness you feel when you’ve done something wrong. How bad it makes you feel and how you don’t want to feel it so you brush it off to the side and try to justify what you have done.

    I’ll be one of many others to admit that forgiveness is hard. And honestly, I don’t know which one is more difficult, forgiving others or forgiving yourself. There are some things that I cannot forgive that others have done because I cannot forget it; it constantly pops back into my mind and I’m reminded of how I had trusted someone only to have them hurt me.

    And then there’s forgiving yourself. And that’s just as hard because no matter how much you try to, you may always feel that same disgusting guilt for what you’ve done.

    I feel that this is why people have “pride”, because they try to forgive and are reminded over and over again of what someone did or what they have done and it’s easier to ignore that pain and push it deep down instead of facing it head on and admitting that they/you were wrong and to forgive then/yourself and move on. I want to say “make up for what they/you have done”, but that’s the thing… you cannot undo the harm you’ve done. That’s why we need to live in the present and constantly think of our actions and what we are doing and what we will do. We may not be held accountable for how someone takes what we say to heart but we are still held accountable for what we say and what we do.

    Now comes the level in which we have to apply this to our lives. But let’s get real, who the fuck has the time for that?


Two Poems in One

I find myself wondering where our life goes,

We hide and lie about what we have deep down inside,
It sickens us and twists us into shapes so atrocious,

A tainted razor seems to hold the key,

Just another another self deceit,
A silly fake cheat.


I wake up at night remembering the horrors of childhood,

Father likes to bend our naked bodies over his knees,
He wears nothing but boxers and a dictated smile on his face,

Mother isn’t ever there; lost in her own prayer,

It’s not the pain that hurts,
But how father looks at us,

I see a gleam in his eye and it gives me chills,

Here it comes again; he likes to pretend I’m his girlfriend,
I’m done, I’m spent, he’s going to get it,

Death is the only thing that awaits him, no love, just a pool of his blood.

Pain Again


I feel so helpless.

I don’t know what to do.

My chest ignites with fever.

My vision snaps inward.

All I see is ash.

Decay from what once was.

Again I’m left abandoned.

To fade & crumble within.

What am I going to do.

All I am is gone.

I grasp my tainted razor.

And lead it to my skin.

The blade bites my soul.

Sanguine flares up from within.

Taking out the torment.

I inhale a ragged breath.

Feeling sober once again.

But it’s never over.

And my pain is never gone.

The Pain



    I cut myself. Sometimes I cry. But crying doesn’t seem to release the build up. It’s a pain I can’t control. I know it’s mental.. but it feels physical. It’s this struggle, inside my body…

    It starts from my heart. Like it’s being corroded by acid. There’s this pressure, this tension, like a tainted, poisoned vine. It expands in every inch of my body and soul, biting off my life. The barbed wires circle around my chest until it feels as if my lungs were collapsing in on themselves. I feel like I can’t breathe…

    I’m choking, a hazy cloud begins to cover my eyes. I realize they’re tears… I’m gasping for breath but it won’t stay in… I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, I’m shaking and sweating, I feel faint and slow, I try to shake myself out of it but to no avail.. My mind begins to blur and race, it’s blinding everything together. I’m outside of my body now, I can see what’s happening, yet can’t stop it. Is this me or someone else?

    She’s rocking on her feet. Is she going to fall? Her body feels like it’s being thrown in lava then dumped in ice. Her mind is corrupting as her soul goes dark, her heart is blinded from the vile within. She’s trapped with no way out. “What’s going on?” a small part existing in her says. “God help me.” She pleads to the person she’s been told to ask for in times like these.. but there’s no answer from this imaginary figment. She’s left, yet again, to be all alone. To figure it out, all on her own.

    All she can see is red, at the edges of her vision it starts to blacken. She’s scared to die. She’s being smothered by the world, everything is crushing her. She can’t hold on much longer. She wants to scream but it won’t come out. She’s so frightened of what’s going on. She’s so confused and feels so alone. The earths gravity grabs her, pulls her down into the pits of hell.

    I attain with horrendous clarity, that this girl, is me. I’m suffocating and drowning. “Help!” I gurgle, but hear nothing but a cut off squeak.

    … I have no choice, I race to where I hide it.. I don’t want it, but I can’t breathe… I snatch up the hidden bag with my razor in it… and as I pierce my skin, I see red droplets of blood erupt forth. One isn’t enough, I slice again and again and again. I don’t care if I’ll scar.Twenty or so slashes later and finally, the strain is gone, the craziness is gone. Relief rushes over me. I feel such euphoria, as if my body has ascended to the heavens. I’m able to breathe again, to live again….

    But the causes of my panic are not gone. Cutting doesn’t help solve them or diminish them. I know that, but I don’t know what else to do. Sometimes my day will start off with wild panic and terror…..

    I need help. I need a better solution. I can’t do this on my own, I’m too ashamed to ask for help. Who will take me sincerely? Who will listen? Who will help? I’m running out of options. My emotions get the best of me… I still think of just killing myself and ending it all. At least that way, I will not have to stress over things or be a burden to others….

~ Amanda Kathleen Hoffman