For a girl raised by a mother who encouraged firm awareness of moral sensitivity, it wasn’t.
She has been hurt many times in the past and in the process she forgot how to let her guard down. Maybe it was a problem. Maybe it wasn’t. But that was her strong defense mechanism, something she wasn’t too sure she could trust anymore. She’d become easily detached and, at the same time, hypersensitive to the same matters that hurt her before.
“No. I’m not overreacting. No. It is not pride. It’s how I can cope with this reality,” she kept saying to herself.
She realized that she was always the one bowing to friends and family, trying her damnedest to break the ice after the awkward confrontations life occasionally had for her. Nobody ever wanted to take that role, be the icebreaker. For her it had been easy in the past.
This time, she felt differently. Why should she go begging for forgiveness when she was the one to whom an apology was owed? She couldn’t comprehend why, instead of reaching out to her, some people chose to shut her out of their life. The easy way out.
Over and over, they played the victim rather than admitting to their mistakes. She realized that if what once banded them together didn’t mean shit to some people, then they weren’t worth her time anymore. It was a truth she now had to live with.