I'm really sick of seeing people hurt others, know they've hurt them and still, refuse to apologise.
The world isn't some big morality play. It's people you're dealing with, not figments of you're imagination.
Justifying your actions doesn't make you a moral person. Doing nothing and ignoring the situation doesn't make you a better person, either.
Only considering the other person's feelings and saying the only thing you can- not more excuses, not any reason that comes into your head, not ignoring it or taking it back- but only an apology.
It won't make it better. It might make it worse. But you've done what you can. The rest is for the other person to sort out.
In the past year, I've been on both sides several times. I know what it was like to have someone give me a complete dressing-down, yet when I asked "why?", was given no reason. And I never recieved an apology.
All I got were excuses, why he felt it necessary to say that. But I've never heard an "I'm sorry."
Even now, when I look at his face, I can't dam the rush of words that he let spill from his mouth in torrents that formed tsunamis as they hit me.It takes all my strength not to duck and run.
'Cause I can't help but be suspicious that he believes everything he said.
I'm not a martyr, either. I did it to one of my friends that is extremely important to me.
I don't know what I will accomplish by telling you the circumstances. I'll risk looking like a hypocrite. And I don't want him to feel like he's enough of a bantam lightweight that I'd risk trivialising him.
I couldn't find my footing anywhere. Every time I tried to find a handhold, there was only flat rock. And he blended into that surface, the face of a mountain that looks craggy but is really smooth as glass from erosion.
I told him the truth at the time- that I wasn't sure if he was real. Everywhere I turned, I was faced by creatures real and imaginary. And I couldn't tell which was which.
I know I hurt him. I don't know if I ever apologised for it.
Sometimes it's hard to do that, especially when every meeting takes place under the cover of darkness and anonymity. And you begin to think that they don't exist anywhere outside of your own head.
And when you see them in daylight, its hard to talk about the midnight rendezvous, becuase you aren't sure they saw what you saw or if they were looking at your face, not into the face of a stranger with your name.
And sometimes they might say a name that's not your own, meaning you, and you will answer to it, because it doesn't matter, because they're not lying but weaving a fabricated truth.
Everything comes back to you, though.
I'm the ghost now, overlooked, invisible, unheard
I see him. I don't know if he's something that was always there or something that I looked so hard for that it became reality. But, I wanted to see him. And once I looked, he beacame visible.
I'm sorry this apology comes so late, but I'm sorry for what I did to you. Could you see me, if you still wanted to?
.:back:. .:home:.
