Thursday Thoughts: I am Sorry.

{ I don’t know what to do with apologies }

It’s kinda sad when people hurt you and apologize and now the onus is on you to painfully and more carefully hide how it all still hurts. No, it shouldn’t be this way.

–// Take a plate. Drop it.
Watch the shattered pieces decorate the floor.
Collect the broken shards.

Now, apologize to it.

There. It is fixed. //

We’ve all been taught by our parents to apologize when we are in the wrong and to graciously accept apologies from those that wrong us.
While I still agree with that rule, however, to a certain extent, I no longer believe an “I’m sorry” is applicable to severe offences.

It seems to me that an offer of apology serves to only ease the conscience of the offender…
and does nothing to help the wounded…
Does it not?
–/ I hear so many hearts breaking //

That is why, in some cases, I do not believe an apology is worth anything.

Sure, it is a valid courtesy. But still, sadly, and too often, a courtesy too late.

One day, I will teach my own children the importance of saying sorry, but I will also teach them that some hurts created are too deep that not even a hundred apologies accompanied with “Please forgive me” cards attached to a thousand red roses can ever reverse the damage.
I will tell them how their own mother’s youth-hood was drowned with blood and tears and many fears because she was weak and foolish enough to let people’s words stab her heart a million times over.
I will show them my scars and tell them how I wish for them to be strong people, that will not easily let some outsider’s brusque discouraging actions and words affect their heart.
But if and when it does, I understand, and oh my beautiful child, it is okay.
They can climb into my bed in the middle of any night at any time and I will hold them till their shoulders stop shaking, until their tears dry.
I will remind them to be always careful of what they say, and how much I hope and pray that they never be found guilty of killing someone’s soul or spirit with quick, sharp tongues that shoots careless words.

So if you know you’ve hurt me deeply, show me with your actions that you’re truly sorry.
If you have apologized, I truly admire the humility and courage you had put together to do so and thank you.

But if you haven’t, don’t.

Don’t apologize.
It’d only make me cry cos I’d feel so lost. And I don’t want to feel that way.

Don’t apologize.
Please.

I wouldn’t know what to do with it.

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Saturday Series: Cacophonous Silence.

“The world was too overwhelming for the child, so she hid in her mind. And if only she knew how loud her mind could be too, she wouldn’t be screaming the way she is today.”

Who knew the lies I was told as a child would create a monster that would haunt me, into my youth.
Who knew teenhood would not be marked with life’s greatest adventures but with tears and blood running after, sorrow upon sorrow.

Ugly lies that would echo menacingly at inopportune times, when my insecurity crept in, snaking its cold unrelenting grasp around my neck, choking me, bringing me to my knees at the casket of memory I had tried so hard to bury.

People didn’t like me ; everything I did was not good ; my success depended on the reaction of others, if they were happy, I did well, if not, I was a failure.

These thoughts leering at my distress every hour, made their long term abode in my tormented mind.

And I kept silent.

Then, how the silence roared in my head and how it eagerly tried to consume every inch of my pain-filled soul.

Like a wound up toy soldier, I marched to the complicated tune of people’s wishes and fancies.

Donning a fool-proof facade, taking a sword and a shield, I faced the world with my false bravado.

But soon.

The no longer shining armour began to feel tremendously weighty, pulling me down, wearing me out and dragging me into the dust.
My shoulders shook, how strange, I thought, it never did before, or maybe I just hadn’t paid attention to it.
The sword, stained with blood, and I, with no recollection of victories, bore mottled bruises and wore countless scars.

How tired I felt ; I laid down and let the world pass by.

And still I kept silent.

Maybe it was a good thing, letting the heat of the noon day set my body ablaze and then fighting the excruciating pain, mind warring against flesh, to allow the cold midnight winds to freeze my charred spirit.

And it was the harshest climates that woke my quite dead resolve to press forward.

The heat planted a thirst to rise like the sun and the biting winds fanned a desire to try again.
And by and by, after conquering myself and my sick mind, I learned not to fear people’s opinion about me.
I no longer cared about their insolent attitudes toward me, their sharp tongues or fiery words.

Painfully peeling off the rusted armour that clung to me, I threw down my sword and shield and for a first, exchanged it for faith and love.

Now, no longer silent, hear my voice above the storm as I rise from the ashes.
I may be knocked down and belittled by you, but I will get up and I will try again.

it’s okay, I’ll be alright¬†

it’s okay to fall apart once in awhile, right? It’s just like the skies that holds everything together but it falls apart from time to time. Still, it’s so hard to feel okay and it’s so unfair, especially when you took so long to build yourself up and then it’s so easy for people to tear you down and you fall apart. Just like that. 

I often wonder to how great an extent can one hurt on the inside. I wonder how the pain of losing a loved one, like the fabric of life that held everything together being torn apart, can crawl its way through the outside and steal its way into the heart and soul of a person […]