The 2 Fables of 1 boy

At last, i'm completely no longer one of them. This is not a grudge -where both sides are waiting for one side to break-, and this is not a protest. It is that, i'm no longer waiting for them to apologize. I am not waiting at all.

The journey in a life like mine is about finding a place where you can exist at a level of peace. Every negative experience reopens wounds. I had to stop putting myself in situations where i was vulnerable to them. I had to stop trusting them and confiding in them. I have to stop giving them the chance to hurt me.

It is important to recognize how hard we had tried. On one end of this spectrum, we try everything we can possibly try until there is no more try left in us. At the other end of the spectrum, our own health is the priority. Stop trying when the pain of this unrequitted trying is preventing us from healing! But even now, i don't have the answer on where the limit of the spectrum we should be.

Honestly, it is hard to forgive people when they simply sign us they've realized their mistake but they haven't really offered any proof.
There is a voice is my head that says i need to move on -regardless of whether they have properly apologized.
This is the voice that knows holding on to resentment is poisonous.
This is the voice that wants to let go of that anger, wipe it clean; despite legitimate fear that it might be opening the door to be hurt all over again.

For one thing, forgiving our enemies is the easy part. The hard work is in forgiving those you trusted to care for you, those precious few you believed would keep your interest in mind, the person you thought would never do that to you.


And so, there are these two fables of a boy;

1) A boy succeed in everything he do, and he lives happily ever after.

2) A boy stands up as a leader. He suffers. He lose his post for unknown reasons to a don't-care-about-the-truth friend, his plans are executed as if it were not his. He was punished recklessly, not accordance to Islamic principles, and yet his muslim brothers and sisters just sit down idly as obedient youngsters. Out of weakness, he had been giving, but he learns from it. He fights depression, but he also waits for himself to work through it. His family left him, his friends left him, his trusted companions left him. He run out of tears. But he believes Allah would never abandon him. The love lasts. He carry on the mission, and he lives happily ever after.

Which of these, ultimately, is a better story?