When I heard that sound, I raised my eyebrows, and boiled inside. I didn't come here to be reminded, I didn't miss this at all, and I have no interest in dealing with it again.

(By the way, it wasn't a crack sound.)

It all came back. The incredible hate. No matter how much patching happens, this pulls out each thread, undoing any progress. Like my fake grandma described, it's never the same after the crack. It never quite fits again.

But I suppose I shouldn't for several reasons.

Reason one: incredibly annoying and troublesome as this is, the core issue lies elsewhere.

Reason two: I want to be able to have fellowship with God.

Reason three: if you can, there's no reason that I shouldn't too. I'm touched by your forgiveness, however incomplete and tainted. And meeting that time, I was surprised once again by your gracious manner, especially knowing just how deep the murderous venom ran within you.



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