You know, I’ve hurt a lot of people over the years. Some of them might even be reading this. Walled up inside my head, peering out of firing-slit eyes, feeling only my own needs, I’ve done a lot of clumsy harm that I still can’t forgive myself for. And so I keep saying I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
I swing wide between trying way to hard and letting it all fall through my fingers. Usually the latter right after the former.
I don’t know why some of you still talk to me.
Real love is being able to look out from under someone else’s forehead, and see yourself as they see you. I wish I could do that, even for a fraction of a second. I wish I could expand outside this constricting cranium that chokes my emotional windpipe.
Have I ever helped? Have I ever made it better? Because on days like this all I can see is where fumbling attempts to make things right did more damage instead. And it made me so angry that it took years to come into the fullness of my shame.
Can we wipe the slate clean? Can we say that was someone else? This character called Avdi, I have barely begun to flesh him out and already there is so much baggage. I am writing myself into existance but I think I spend more time doodling and lining-through typos than I do filling new pages.
Please forgive me. I am still not fully here, eyes darting, ahead, behind, out the window – everywhere but here-and-now, with you in front of me, expectantly. I have lost a quarter of my life in this fashion. Now I am dropping these words like anchors, hoping I will believe them, hoping that they will capture and evolve me as a spell binds a wandering spirit.
I love you! And I care! …Seriouly. I know you don’t believe me because you just got done saying how no one cares enough to respond to this. I just thought that because we were talking in person that’d be okay.
I’ve been a bitch, myself! And I certainly don’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness, understanding, or compassion. Nevertheless I apologize too, and I continue to apologize for all the shit and hell I’ve put people around me through.
For what it’s worth, in spite of anything you may have (allegedly) said about me, I forgive you.
I ask for your forgivness for anything I might have said or done that may have offended you, and I hope you know I love you, as much as I can love someone I haven’t met, and I truly admire you.
“Real love is being able to look out from under someone else’s forehead, and see yourself as they see you.”
I’m not sure I agree. I think this indicates true perception and empathy, but not everyone has this skill, even with those they love.
Rather, I believe real love is trying to understand each other and managing to love one another whether we understand each other or not.
Human
There is a lot that I could say to you about this. I could go on a rant about what love is. But I think, perhaps, that what jumps out at me the most is very simply that we’re all human.
I’m human. I’ve hurt a lot of people in my own short life. Some of them waited years and years for me to come around, patiently, maybe not so patiently, but nonetheless. Some of them declared their undying love for me. And eventually, most of them left, because even the most loyal need to know when to cut their losses.
And what do I have to show for all of this? Ashes, and the bitter taste of a thousand lessons learned. But lessons can’t bring back the people I’ve hurt. I always try to tell myself that it’s for the best, that I’m better off now, that I wouldn’t have been happy in those situations anyway. And all of it’s true. But it doesn’t really take away the solitude.
So as a frail, wretched human being, I am here to tell you that you will make mistakes, and you will make them in abundance. What matters is that you learn enough not to repeat your worst faults, and that you find people who will stay with you through the lesser ones.