I have the urge to apologise.
It is not pretty, rather an explosive flow of some geographical term of hot, melting substance flowing out of some geographical term of a hundred-year-old mountain in the middle of some map.
This urge has been bugging me the entire day, even when there is no real urgency. The urge to sincerely apologise for letting some down over the course of these 26 years is not useful, but it is meaningful.
No guilt, though, because there was no intention to hurt others in the first place,
No matter how real pain feels.
As much as we are frustrated with anyone, we are as much culpable for our emotions.
You had no heart, but I thought there was intention.
You have a long way to go,
And even if I recall images in years to come,
I will not go down with you.
I sincerely apologise for misinterpreting you, and for being a willing fool.
Apologies should go to ourselves, because even while apologising to another, we have accepted that it was ourselves (and therefore them other conscious selves) who’d willingly wager selves for a perceived, imagined beauty that is the future.
I’ve told Z about not changing herself a bit to make living easier, and I believe in her potential. She doesn’t see it, because the daily suffering gets too overwhelming sometimes. Today I understand a little more about why a perfectly intelligent person would choose an easier path.
You, I will tell you this; thank you for teaching me the value of trust. And more so, the value in the lack of it.
It is heartbreaking when I imagine all the reasons the omnipotent universe could have when they put two good persons against each other, and if it had to be you. You’re a lesson to lessen the pain, to make it feel as-if-easier to stop trying. If I see butterflies now I’ll probably crush them to death.
Tonight I want an easier path out.
If the world can go on thoughtlessly, then what is the value in the pain these thoughts bring?