I feel like I won't get any apology or closure, so I forgive them all.

I hope I can share this here. I feel like some INFJs, and perhaps anyone who has spent a long time reflecting on life and relationships, might relate to this.

In the last three days, I chose to meet a group of people who had wronged me four years ago. I believe I can say that it was my first real heartbreak, and it led me to both lose and find my own sense of existence and identity. It hurt something inside me deeply, but it also healed something just as significant.

The group consisted of both younger and older people, but no one my age. At the time, I was simply nineteen years old with no friends because I had withdrawn from all my high school friendships. A smear campaign had happened, and I found myself seeing both sides of it. That broke something inside me. I felt forced to choose between my best friend, who was being targeted, and the group involved in spreading the rumors. Even one of my teachers seemed to play a part in it.

I chose neither side. I chose to listen and avoid judging anyone until I could no longer bear the situation. Eventually, I left.

Looking back, I learned a great deal from that experience. It was a community of artistic and creative people. I understand how it feels to be cherished every day, praised every day, and encouraged through compliments. I was always the person applauding others and supporting them from behind the scenes.

People often told me that I should stay busy with art, motivation, and developing expertise so I would not have to worry about other things in life. But as I grew, I realized that was not how I wanted to live. I could not escape problems that I did not understand. Eventually, I discovered that I was going through an existential crisis.

I absorbed the identities and beliefs of the people around me, even when they did not fit who I truly was. I found myself surrounded by excessive criticism of other people's art. Some seniors would act as life coaches, pushing younger members to follow their plans without encouraging them to question things for themselves. Instead of helping them grow, it often left them uncertain about who they were.

Two more years passed. I resisted many of these patterns. I saw younger members who wanted guidance and attention being pushed away, and I often found myself comforting them. The cycle continued until eventually I was the last one left.

By then, I had begun speaking my mind, although not completely. I had been made to feel that I had too much ego, and that ego was something that had to be destroyed. At the time, I did not understand. Now I think the goal should not be destruction but understanding and transformation.

When I finally spoke honestly, many people seemed disappointed. Yet I felt strangely numb because I had carried the hurt for so long. I did not understand how my words could hurt anyone. They had held onto me for years, but when I spoke openly, they pushed me away completely.

After that, I felt lost again and again. Telling the truth sometimes felt like telling a lie. I kept attracting wounded people, as if I had entered a world where hurt people hurt people. Yet all of that pain and growth shaped my soul and my worldview.

Today, I believe truth should not be used as a weapon. I believe people should not be lost in life. I believe people deserve good things, justice, understanding, and the opportunity to become better.

So I met them. I spoke my truth from the heart. I forgave them all.

What quietly remains in my mind is a simple question: Why did they all go silent?

I ask that because I have seen a pattern before. When I shared only twenty-five percent of the truth with people close to me, they became defensive. At fifty percent, they used my past against me. At seventy-five percent, they offered life advice they had never truly embodied themselves. At one hundred percent, they often went silent. Yet a few became more trusting and appreciative.

In my life, I have apologized more than a thousand times. I doubt I have received even ten apologies in return. Yet I no longer think apologies are the most important thing. People can reflect and grow without them.

Everything happened for a reason. I carry no regret and no resentment. If I had to live through it again, I would still choose to do the same.

After all of this, I have become more grateful and more hopeful. I believe humanity should learn to feel for one another more deeply. At the very least, I know that I can do better myself, and for now, that is enough.