the language of pride

someone who can only speak the language of pride cannot except to understand the subtetly of the language of forgiveness. and of love, for that matter. and when it comes to that, all moral judgements fail, and turn against oneself. so yes, i might have made a fool out of myself, forgiving for love several times. in the past, i was severely wounded for that, and yet i've survived. in the present, only the gods can tell, but i'll survive no matter what. the funny thing is, i'd do it all again without blinking. i understand all too well the language of pride. i know the way it sounds, i know its tones and characters. but that language is a doomed one, a cursed one - one that will brings us no relief, no redemption, only bitter tears of woe. some might say that love (and forgiveness) can only bring us pain as well, and i'm tempted to agree. but to live is to suffer.

and we suffer just the same when blinded by pride. and we end up seeing it - but only when it's too late, and only when regret is all we have left.