How to Love You

26

October 17

Staring at the blank sheet of paper, I contemplated all the words in the world I could say to apologize to you, but nothing seemed good enough. As I incessantly tapped my pencil against the paper, different arrays of apologies streamed through my mind:

I didn't mean to not defend you, you just angered me so much that I rightly believed you deserved to be called a bitch.

Friends are supposed to defend each other, but it's not like you've been such a great friend recently, right? By the way, I'm sorry.

How's Matt? Treating you right? Excellent...well, I apologize, I guess.

Like I said before, nothing seemed right to put on paper and deliver to you.

I know I'm being a wimp not just apologizing to your face, but every time I even knocked on the bedroom door to speak to you, you would scream at me to leave you alone. Truth is, I was scared of the person you became after the accident. The doctor was right, you weren't the same Danielle Harper I fell in love with, because my Dani would never be so ruthless towards another human being.

Now that I really think about it, why am I even apologizing to you? I did nothing wrong, other than allow my mother to call you a rude name, but boohoo, you got your precious little feelings hurt. If it really bothered you that much, how come you didn't make Matt stick up for you? It seemed like he just stood there and did nothing as well, the same reaction I had. Except, when I just remain a bystander and refuse to defend you, I'm some sort of cold blooded monster, am I right? Well, Matt seems like a great boyfriend, congratulations, Dani, you really picked a keeper. He probably didn't even utter one word of an apology, meanwhile I'm forced to spill my innermost guilt for not defending you.

But no matter how much I want to just say screw it and not say sorry, I can't. You have me looped around your finger, handling me like a puppet on strings. I was incompetent to have a mind of my own when you were involved, because you knew all the right ways to fuck with my brain.

So, with such reluctance, I scribbled a measly 'I'm sorry' on the piece of paper and slipped it under the crack in the door.

It amazes me how you got so uptight when I didn't apologize, but I'm hurting every day of my life and you couldn't give two shits.

Moments later, the bedroom door swung open and I was met with your tough demeanor once again.

"This is your apology?" You asked, dangling the piece of paper in front of my face, to which I shamefully nodded, "well, I forgive you." Suddenly, you embraced me in a hug and all those angry thoughts about you diminished.

Maybe one day, if I really wish for it, I won't be the one apologizing for hurting you.