I am empathetic toward the child who deserved to grow up in a loving household. I am empathetic toward the boy who held his mother's lifeless, hanging body—something he did not deserve to see with his own eyes—and, to this day, blames himself for her death. However, I will not be justifying the actions of his adult self—things he did, knowing what it meant, regardless of how much it was influenced by his upbringing. He knew it. He did it. There's no forgiving that. There's no forgiving the now him.
I'm empathetic toward who he was and not he has become.
I am empathetic toward the child who deserved to grow up in a loving household. I am empathetic toward the boy who held his mother's lifeless, hanging body—something he did not deserve to see with his own eyes—and, to this day, blames himself for her death. However, I will not be justifying the actions of his adult self—things he did, knowing what it meant, regardless of how much it was influenced by his upbringing. He knew it. He did it. There's no forgiving that. There's no forgiving the now him.
I'm empathetic toward who he was and not he has become.