He's turned on me more than once and yet he expects total and unwavering loyalty from me. Obseqious levels of faith and respect that border on dedication.
And the funny thing is that I want to do this for him. I want to. Anyway. I want to be the kind of friend who can understand that insecurity and weakness can make a man do things, think things, be things he'd not be at his best. Can make him say cruel or unreasonable things. I want to be the person who can forgive them for this and that still be there for them, because once you forgive, you need to work to forget, and then, if you can' t be a good friend, maybe you shouldn't be one at all, right? Because I'd want a friend to do that for me, someday. Or so I think.
And then I think. Like for real. With my brain, employing logic and sense and I get it.
I understand that sometimes people say something mean. Intentionally, unintentionally, in times of pain, in misunderstanding. I understand that things slip, people make mistakes. Or even, maybe, say, there was a misunderstanding. Loose lips sink ships or she looked single? Who knows. If I begin to judge I begin to condemn. But here is the deal, if you can look at me and see me and say you are sorry for past folly, if you can present your imprefections as the fruit of your weakness and not a reflect of your feelings for me, then you need to be able to do the same for me.
And yes. Some sins are unforgiveable.
But you can't sit there. Like the last rightous man ready to be snubbed down. Like a tragic figure, constantly foiled by all human cruelty but your own, and judge and choose and forgive and dismiss and then not expect the very same of your friends.
You are allowed to judge? Good, then so are they. You are allowed to falter? Okay, then so are they. You are allowed to have your own opinion about how to conduct your life and others lives and communication. Oh good. Then so are they.
It's a big wide level playing field. And you can't stand up there on the pitchers hump and act like you are in the dugout.
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