Apologies and such.
[Excerpt from my series, Whispers To My Shadows]
We all say words that we do not mean every day. We say it because it is expected of us. We say it because we live in a world that can barely survive lengthy, winding talks without feeling judged. We say it because when minutes turn to seconds and the idyllic shades of dusk paint the skies black in swift brush strokes, the emptiness starts bursting against the corner of the room, leaving you with an impossible choice. To divulge or to hide?
How many 'I am fine' rolled between your tongue despite the heaviness you feel in your chest? Despite the emptiness slowly spreading out to your throat, the pit of your stomach, the edge of your shoulder blades? How many 'It’s okay' spoken between gritted teeth when you really just felt like a tangled heap of messy hair and dirty muck caught in the drain?
An epiphany hit me the other day as I said 'Sorry' for what felt like an eternity of apologies. I apologise profusely. I apologise for the mistakes that are sometimes not even mine. For a long time I even apologised for my existence, for not being your version of me. I apologise for the tragedies and exhilaration. For eccentricities and imperfection, vulnerabilities and silences. Hell, even for my state of mind. I apologise for the what-ifs and the could-bes with regrets creeping into my system like a slow poison. I apologise even when there is no need for words.
Maybe, we need to stop saying things we no longer mean. Maybe the rare words that engulf the recesses of our hearts and minds are more precious than those that we say daily. So when we apologise and mean it, it is no longer just an apology. And when I say, "I am fine". I finally am.