I could. Really, I could. But...

zara's picture

I'm rolling on Xanax and a Monster energy drink right now, high on the female empowerment lyrics of Kelly Clarkson, which have been burned into my brain after playing her latest disc "Stronger" on repeat in the car for the last 3 days.

And I drive A LOT.

I have fucked up a lot in my life. I have said mean and hurtful things to people who didn't deserve to be talked to in the manner that I approached them. I've called people names, judged them for not siding me with, labeled them cowards for having opinions that differed from mine.

I own all of that about myself. And I could spend the rest of my days apologizing to each and every individual that I put through each and every one of my bullshit episodes until the day I passed over dead and there'd still be a line of people standing over my corpse holding IOU tickets.

Realization came to me that if I did say sorry, how much would it really mean? They're words, not actions. And as much as people will sell you on the actions part of the equation being the most important part, stop buying into that romantic nonsense. You want to hear the words too. I know I do when I've been wronged. I want to feel the whispers of guilty confessions caressing my ass cheeks.

Even with all of the right words said, provided that you can safely navigate each and every individual labyrinth for each person you've offended to find the golden scroll which tells you the Klato, Verata, Nikto ("I know your damn words!!"), how much are they going to forgive you.

Or - more importantly to perhaps only me - how much are they going to forget.

You know why people have to remind me of the stupid shit I've done to them? Because I've conveniently scrubbed it from my memory. Because much of it is disturbing, embarrassing, shameful and wrong. I think it would be easier to have those people choose to walk out of my life than spend an eternity of looking at them, knowing that they remember what I did and when I least expect it (or perhaps when the back of my consciousness makes me aware of it coming at the last second), they're just going to use it against me.

I AM A BAD PERSON. Is that what you want to hear? I AM AN ASSHOLE? Does hearing that make you feel better? I FUCKED UP. I RUINED SHIT. I DIDN'T PUT IN THE WORK. I DIDN'T PAY CLOSE ENOUGH ATTENTION. I COULDN'T READ. YOUR. FUCKING. MIND.

Please forgive me. I'm sorry. This is the reason why I did it. This is what was really going on in my head in the time and I lashed out in an inappropriate manner. I should have been more mature, I should have taken the higher road. I should have been a fucking saint.

But I'm not.

I claim to be awesome because I am. But I have never claimed to be a saint.

Is the juice worth the squeeze?

I forget things I do, things I did, in what must seem like a self-centered, self-absorbed, morally corrupt manner.

I forget them because I didn't kill your dog. I didn't call your grandmother a cunt. I didn't slash your tires. I didn't implicate you in a crime that got you sentenced to prison.

I forget them because I hurt your feelings. And I figure that you'd like to forget that that happened as well.

I forget them because I annoyed you. And I figure that as you grow and mature yourself, you gain perspective that people do annoying things when they're younger. But they have the capacity to learn to change from life experience.

I forget the bad shit because I prefer to think that even if you don't, even if you can't, I have the ability within me to do something more positive.

I remember the nice things you said to me. I focus on the good feelings that were brought into my life from that. I take the goodness and light from that experience and use it to move forward and improve myself.

I remember the kind gestures. Both sent and received. I remember how they were extended with nothing but the purest of heart and the absolute vacuum of any hidden motive.

If you want me to say I'm sorry...

I'm sorry.

But be fucking honest. Words, actions... we place so much undue value on them.

Feelings, on the other hand. The things we feel in our hearts, for ourselves, completely unhindered by anything but the rhythmic breathing inside of our brains... those are what matter. Listen to them.

Comments

lrk1977's picture

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda . . .

Sometimes, when you wrong someone, a blanket apology isn't enough. Sometimes, just acknowledging the hurt you caused can go much farther. Sometimes, just saying "I fucked up" doesn't do the situation justice. Sometimes, whether you remember your actions or not . .. those things you did still cut me just as deep. Sometimes, a flippant "I just don't remember" isn't enough.

Asking for forgiveness is about acknowledging the wrongs you did and the hurt you caused. It's about YOU experiencing a FRACTION of the discomfort you CAUSED the other person to feel. It's about promising to do better. It's about putting some salve on the wounds you made.

Words and actions have more value than you think. I, for one, know that my words and actions show to others what kind of person I am. If I act like a douche, I prbly am one. If I am mindful of what I say, it's because I would rather say nothing than say something hurtful. We express our FEELINGS through words and actions. Whether you FEEL sorry or not, is seen through your ACTIONS and what you SAY.

Because, let's be fucking honest, we can't SEE remorse.

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