I forgive you.

How many times in a lifetime do we say it? If you're anything like me, it's almost a vocabulary staple at this point. I guess the real question is, how many times do you mean it? And well, that's where it gets tricky.

Because although I've told many people that I've forgiven them in my twenty-one years, I've now come to realize that I never really did. I thought I did, I thought that saying the words was enough. And maybe that counts for something in the bigger scheme of things, but small picture it's worth nothing. Because, deep down, it's not just residual hurt. It's not just the slight ache that's left behind after you've healed – it's still an open wound.

And I'm left to figure out how to mend it on my own.

I always thought I had to forgive people. I mean, it wasn't like I was coerced into forgiving but it felt like I was responsible. That's what I was taught to believe, anyways – that we always need to give others the benefit of the doubt. People were flawed, and so you have to let them be flawed because it wasn't my place to judge. It still isn't.

And somewhere along the line, I began to see forgiveness as something I owed others, not something that needed to be earned. I began to think I was being selfish if I withheld my forgiveness. I thought that it was wrong to hold on, that I was being unreasonable. Because, after all, they were sorry and people make mistakes and I had to accept that.

I mean, I make mistakes all the time and I apologize all the time and I want to be forgiven all the time. So it only seemed fair that I would just say it, get it over with, and move on.

I forgave because others needed it, not because I needed it. I was covering a crack in the foundation with a Band-Aid – or attempting to, anyway. I was convincing myself that I was doing the right thing, that I was making the right decision for everyone by choosing to forgive them. I felt in control because I wasn't letting them know how hurt I still was. I thought of it as damage control – like I could speak it into existence somehow.

Like because I was acknowledging that it was the right thing, the universe would grant me with the actual feeling.

It is good to forgive – healthy, even. But it won't change anything, it's not worth anything to anyone if you don't believe it. If it's not real. There's no such thing as strings attached forgiveness. It shouldn't be conditional until you decide where you really want to or not; you either do or you don't, all or nothing. Because although you feel wronged, it's not any more right to lie. Both to yourself, and the other person.

Forgiveness isn't for others. I mean, it is partially. Everyone wants to hear they've been forgiven. Everyone wants to know that it's okay and that it's going to be okay. But forgiveness is all about you realizing that it's OK; about you believing it can all be alright. It's all about you overcoming the way you feel and realizing that you see past it.

It's choosing to let go, and letting go is all about you.

Forgive for you. Forgive them because you want to, not because they want you to want to. Forgive because it doesn't hurt. Forgive because to you, it's worth it. Forgive because it enriches your life, not theirs. It sounds selfish, I know, but it isn't.

Because by forgiving for you, you're giving others the best gift you could ever give – a blank slate, no strings attached.