“He asked me the same thing this morning,” she said. “No, it does not – not love that has been betrayed. One realizes that one has loved a mirage, someone who never really existed. Not that love dies immediately or soon, even then. But it does die and cannot be revived.”
– Mary Balogh, Simply Perfect
I’m surprised at myself. Being a spiritually enlightened man, well acquainted with my own faults and well exercised at forgiving a mountain of offenses against me, I’ve found myself at an insurmountable barrier, bitterness at a betrayal, no not just one, but many betrayals, of my lover against me. I mouth the words like I know I should, “I forgive you”, I pray the prayers, “Lord help her”, but yet, I find a seething bleeding wound festering beneath my loving mask. Why does this have a root in me? Worse, why can’t I, under any amount of coercion, cleanse myself of this horrid stew I’ve brewed? I haven’t yet tasted the foulness of it, but I can smell it, tainting the air of conversation and poisoning the purity of the love I felt. I’m sure it’ll kill all of my affection, but, I must make sure it doesn’t destroy my compassion for others, or let it morph into its evil sibling, revenge. God help me, I’m just like the one I despise! Now I’m left with this battle, and how to win it, I’ve no sure plan. I need an intervention of grace, power to do what I could never do.