I was in kindergarten when I remember committing my first mean act. My best friend said something that made me mad, and of course I don't remember the reason, I seem to always forget. Earlier that day she gave me her only picture of her new puppy, Frosty. She thought that I would like to see her and asked if i would come over later that day to meet her. So, she said something, and I went over to my cubby, snatched the picture, and tore it in half, tears running down both of our faces. I still feel guilt over this, and it has been over 12 years since. I think about this day more than I would like to admit, this day haunts me. So, why? Why do I keep going back to this moment? Why can't I seem to get over it? I have done far worse things sense and yet this is the memory that haunts me. I guess it was because I never told her sorry. I never forgave myself. I am ashamed of some of the things I have done, but I have learned to forgive myself. You must forgive yourself if you want to move forward.

I once talked to a mysterious old man, and he told me something I have never forgotten. I sat down next to him on the park bench, being an unassuming child who believed in the kindness of the world, blindly believing that the world was a good place, that people are intrinsically good. He looked at me, and I smiled at him, my gap tooth and underbite making him give a small soft smile. He told me about his life. His life was sad, yet not because he did not experience a good life. He told me of his travels, how he has seen the most beautiful scenery, where the wild is free and humans have yet to infect it. How he has seen life come into and out of this world firsthand. How he first held his baby girl, and he held his mom's hand when she took her dying breath. He told me of his wife, and of his dog. He said that he lived a good life, that he had good things happen to him. He told me that it was a waste, useless on him. He told me of the time he had too much to drink, yet still decided to drive. He had to get home to let the babysitter go. He killed a little boy that night, around my age at the time. When the collision happened, he wasn't sure what was happening at first. He heard the sound of metal on metal, and he saw bright lights. He felt numb. When he finally regained his focus, he saw a boy, thrown out of the front windshield of the car he hit. His mother and father weeping, holding each other, rushing to their dead little boys side. The old man started to cry. He told me that he never forgave himself, he didn't go a day without thinking of the life that little boy would have today. And then he told me the most eye opening advice I have ever received: “A life without forgiveness, is not a life at all; guilt will destroy you and forgiveness will set you free”.

I will always remember that day at the park, one of many days that will continue to haunt my mind. Yet, as I live, truly live, I realize he is right. What is life without mistakes? What is life if you can't forgive yourself? In the end, forgiveness is the key to realising the shackles of your mind. In the end, forgiveness is what allows you to truly live. So, this is me, finally forgiving myself.