This is an apology. An apology to everyone I’ve done wrong and to everything that I’ve destroyed. I know I can’t resurrect anything from the ashes, but I can at least try to sweep them away.
I’m sorry for being a bad partner. When things got dark, and strange, and we were growing apart like two meandering paths, I should’ve held you tighter. I should’ve fought tooth and claw to get through the brush and merge our paths again. But I didn’t. I’m sorry I’ll always love you a little bit, even though you filled me with fury so cold it chipped away at my thin walls. I’m sorry I’ll always be blinded by that deadly mixture, so much so that even meeting your eyes hurts a little too much.
I’m sorry for being a bad friend. You might not even know it, but I am one. I spit bullets as casually as you do flowers. I shy away from you when you’re looking for someone to help. I let you flounder, cutting off the bridge before you can get to me. It’s selfish. Because I can’t handle your darkness and your light. And I know that means I don’t deserve you. There just comes a point where you’ve given so much of yourself that there isn’t anything left. I severed my legs and handed them to you. You tore of my arms without an apology. I cleaved my heart out of my chest and let it roll toward you, and even as I trembled and fell to the floor, you barely batted an eye. So I’m sorry I don’t have anything more to give you. I’m sorry I can’t tear myself into even smaller shreds to try to make room for you. And I’m sorry I’m saying all of this when I know it’s not your fault.
I’m sorry to my family, for all of the things that they did which I let go unnoticed. I’m sorry that when you came home beaming, I smothered your warmth and clapped out your happiness. I’m sorry I didn’t get you more gifts. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you as much as I should have. I’m sorry I took out the worst on you when you gave me the best. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate enough the silent solitude. I’m sorry I took for granted all the rides, the food, the gifts, the smiles.
I’m sorry to the passersby. I’m sorry if you ever waved, a smile on your face, and I was too caught in my head to notice. I’m sorry if you were passing me and felt disturbed at the darkness that dwelled there. I’m sorry if you overheard something and thought it was about you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel less than you are. This world is already stressful enough on its own.
And, most of all, I’m sorry to myself. I’m sorry for disregarding myself. I’m sorry for letting anything get this far. I’m sorry I tore myself to shreds. I’m sorry I stripped away all emotion. I’m sorry I isolated myself, and did nothing to get better. I’m sorry I gave up so early on in the battle. I’m sorry I let myself get so scarred. I’m sorry parts of me couldn’t come out the other side. I’m sorry for not working to mend my broken bones, bandage my scars, and fill the hollow caves until now. I’m sorry it took me so long to own up to all of this; I’m sorry I waited to exorcise my demons and finally apologize. But I’ve done it.
I’ve said it all.
And maybe I can go forward unapologetic.
Maybe this will be the new start I’ve been searching for.
Maybe I had to let go and erase before I could begin to grasp other things and create.
