I don't know what's
so impossibly
difficult about apologizing – and meaning it. All my life I've been the ‘bigger’ one, the one who would be first to say sorry to the person or persons I was in conflict with, no matter how minor my faults were or how major theirs were. Friends, family, boyfriends, classmates– I've always been the one asking for forgiveness when they had an equal, if not bigger, part in the problem. But what's more hurtful and tedious than this never-ending pattern of having to take the initiative when i, too, have been wronged, is the accompanying silence on the other end. Not only am I consistently the first one to apologize, I am too often the only one to apologize. Nobody ever seems to think it appropriate or necessary to apologize for what they've done or said to me. Everybody is too f.ucking prideful, too selfish, too whatever to claim their screw-ups. Time and time again I shoulder the weight of the blame on my own, and I'm getting tired. I can't understand why people choke on such a simple word and why they're too weak to add the strength of sincerity behind it. I guess my feelings are of lesser importance than yours. It doesn't matter if they've been hurt too. You can say this flat out, I've already gleaned it from your insistence on remaining hard and cold as stone, rigid in your determination to wait out my inevitable cracking. Mark my words: I won't be approaching you with guilt-filled eyes and regret on my lips this time. It's your turn. And if you're too cowardly to take that step, it's cool. But I'm too full of bitterness and resentment right now for any attempt at reconciliation I make to be genuine. I'm sorry, but for once, I'm not saying sorry.
difficult about apologizing – and meaning it. All my life I've been the ‘bigger’ one, the one who would be first to say sorry to the person or persons I was in conflict with, no matter how minor my faults were or how major theirs were. Friends, family, boyfriends, classmates– I've always been the one asking for forgiveness when they had an equal, if not bigger, part in the problem. But what's more hurtful and tedious than this never-ending pattern of having to take the initiative when i, too, have been wronged, is the accompanying silence on the other end. Not only am I consistently the first one to apologize, I am too often the only one to apologize. Nobody ever seems to think it appropriate or necessary to apologize for what they've done or said to me. Everybody is too f.ucking prideful, too selfish, too whatever to claim their screw-ups. Time and time again I shoulder the weight of the blame on my own, and I'm getting tired. I can't understand why people choke on such a simple word and why they're too weak to add the strength of sincerity behind it. I guess my feelings are of lesser importance than yours. It doesn't matter if they've been hurt too. You can say this flat out, I've already gleaned it from your insistence on remaining hard and cold as stone, rigid in your determination to wait out my inevitable cracking. Mark my words: I won't be approaching you with guilt-filled eyes and regret on my lips this time. It's your turn. And if you're too cowardly to take that step, it's cool. But I'm too full of bitterness and resentment right now for any attempt at reconciliation I make to be genuine. I'm sorry, but for once, I'm not saying sorry.
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