The bulk of my life approaches as a great white wall, or a gaping black chasm. I can’t tell which. I can’t tell whether the future brings the end or just a new beginning—or maybe both. All I know right now is that things are going to change. They already have. I already have.
I’ve lost most everything I’ve held close: people, possessions, employment, respect. The list of things to lose grows shorter and shorter daily. I’m left with precious few ideals, and I cling to them as if my life depends on it. Because my life does depend on it.
The only two things that I am certain I possess anymore are love and forgiveness. I only own them because I have kept them, nurtured them. Experiences change us, but we do have the power to choose in what ways we become changed. I choose to love; I choose to forgive.
I’m not naïve enough to believe that my love and my forgiveness are reciprocated by those who are dearest to my heart. They who were once a large slice of my life have recently become distant, either by choice or by circumstance. I assume the worst. I assume that they neither care for nor think of me at all—they might even hate me. Still, that doesn’t influence my choice. I choose to love and to forgive. Those are both mine to give, and I decide who I am.
For now, my love is keeping me alive. That isn’t a figurative statement. In fact, most days, it is the only thing that keeps me breathing. I may never know if others truly love or care for me. That is a simple fact. The immediate future is uncertain, but I remain. I remain in love. I hope that it is enough. Time will tell.