You cannot hurt someone and then seek forgiveness from god.
That person you wronged? They remember. Their pain doesn’t dissolve because you’ve moved on. One tear from them carries more weight than a lifetime of your prayers. You might have your story—your reasons, your circumstances, your perspective on why things happened the way they did. You’ve rehearsed it a thousand times.
But their wound doesn’t care about your story.
The harm you caused doesn’t heal overnight. While you sleep, they’re rebuilding themselves from ruins you left behind. That guilt, that karma, that invisible thread of pain—it follows you. It will be there on your deathbed, whispering the truth you tried to bury.
But here’s what matters now: you still have time.
You have this moment. This breath. This chance to carry the courage you thought you’d lost.
Yes, you deserved to break after breaking an innocent soul. That’s not cruelty—that’s consequence. But you also have a life ahead of you. A life where you can prove to them, or maybe just to yourself, that the lesson landed. That you felt it deep enough to change.
You did it dirty. You made it bad. You cheated, you betrayed, you lied, you shattered trust. Your circumstances don’t erase your accountability. The one left broken by your hands deserves more than your excuses.
So get up.
Be the change that your worst moment couldn’t kill. Don’t repeat the mess. Don’t choose the same path again. Build your core self from scratch if you have to.
Because awareness alone changes nothing. Your constructive efforts do.
So pause.
Breathe.
Stay conscious.
Don’t choose anything for a while. First, pick yourself up from the dirt. Wash yourself clean—not just your hands, but your intentions, your patterns, your defaults.
Then, after the internal cleaning, after the letting go, do the right things. Slowly. Consciously. One choice at a time.
The person you hurt may never forgive you.
But you can still become someone worthy of forgiveness.
That’s the only redemption that matters.
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