The Thoughts Behind it All

Half Apologies

A heartfelt apology spilled from my mouth, like bittersweet wine from a chalice. I meant each word I said, dishonesty not daring to make itself known in my many paragraphs. I had ensured that my words would be nothing but the truth, from a place of regret, and my mouth, not another's. I promised myself that when the time came for me to apologize to you, I would make my words heartfelt and true, reflecting on how I had rebuilt myself after all that our ruin had put me through.

I poured my heart out into letters, ranging from a paragraph to six pages. I wrote my thoughts down on anything I could get my hands on, racking my brain for the deepest, purest thoughts that would possibly get you to forgive me. I wrote poems, I wrote small, short paragraphed stories, and I went as far as to dedicate a whole part of my life to writing down my thoughts about you; my raw, sincere, broken thoughts.

But when the time finally came for me to apologize. When I finally worked up the courage to tell you, to spill a part of my heart out, to finally give you the apology I thought you deserved; a thought occurred to me. You didn't deserve it. You were not worth the heartache, the turmoil, the sleepless nights, or the midnight sobs that devoured me consistently.

You had ripped a part of my heart out in the blink of an eye with absolutely zero remorse, and I had been so gullible and stupid enough to genuinely believe that I was the one to do something wrong. While I had been part of the destruction that was the ending of our friendship, you had caused the entirety of the damage. You had pulled at every insecurity I had and made sure that each and every one was thoroughly exposed before delivering an absolutely crushing insult to my whole being. You were the cause of my loneliness, my heartbreak, my tears, my anger, my pain, and my months-long depression. Yet, your words drove me to a place of regret, self-hatred, and sorrow, driving me to apologize for what I did.

"It's crazy that it took you this long." Did you ever receive the message I sent you on your birthday? Did you get the letters I never sent? Were you there when I drafted messages to you that were paragraph upon paragraph long, only to realize that you had blocked me from your life? No. What was I supposed to do? I had spent so long trying to figure out what to say to you, that I had never thought of how to say it. I had not even thought of how I would apologize, or how I would grovel for even a slight bit of redemption in your eyes. You hadn't reached out to me, either. I believe that working towards a common goal is something that has to have effort from both parties. However, you chose to blame me for not reaching out to you. You chose to blame me for taking so long to reach out and apologize. I was hit at that moment with the overwhelming fact that you are self-obsessed, shallow, and an absolutely ignorant human being. And to think that once, I had held you at the same level as a god, is purely ridiculous. You are nothing but a petulant child who has yet to grow up and enjoy the world around you. You still focus on yourself instead of the people that surround you. I was baffled, and yet, I was still willing to give you a second chance. I was still willing to give you a part of my heart, to give you a small amount of trust to rebuild this. I was even upfront about my lack of trust in you, telling you that it would take a while to rebuild that trust that you had ripped away so violently so we could become something that somewhat resembled friends. Yet, you were still so oblivious to what it's like to be a decent human being surrounding someone else's feelings. You told me to go ahead and rebuild that trust, and "make your decision from there."

What more of a decision was there to make? I have grown from the destroyed, broken, gullible, weak little girl you had once taken advantage of. I am no longer willing to apologize to you, and I no longer have the time to dedicate to lowering myself to that level of desperation just to salvage something that you had broken so severely beyond repair. Stepping back into the familiar environment that was your words felt like standing in the eye of a hurricane. It seems quiet and peaceful for only seconds, quickly devolving into strong winds, rain, and pure chaos. I know now that I am better than that. I am better than standing in the eye of a storm I live nowhere near. I am better than groveling and apologizing for something that is quite simply not my fault. And most importantly, I am better than that half-apology that you had given me in return for the heartfelt, heartbroken, and pure apology that I had written out for you. I am better than the unsent letters, the long paragraphs, the poems, and the late-night texts that I had dedicated to the perfect image I had of you in my head. I am better than the midnight sobs that racked my body, the heartache, the turmoil, and the sleepless nights.

However, I have one last apology for you. I am sorry for giving you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry for even pausing to think that maybe you were right. You didn't deserve my grace, my leniency, or the special place in my heart that I dedicated to you for seven whole years. I'm sorry for trying to rekindle a weak fire that had been stripped of its firewood and had its ashes doused in cold water.

So, with that, I'm sorry, but quite truly, I'm not. 

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7/18/2024

My god. My fingers hurt now.