more apologies

I always used to say I hated apologies. Like so many things I'd say it was carefully crafted in the hopes that someone would ask about it--"why do you hate them?"--and then I could explain. It would have been clever. It never happened. Sometimes I'd say I hated apologies right after apologizing, even. I was lucky if someone gave me a funny look.

Like so many things I say I stopped saying it after a while, but it wasn't because I got tired of it. As time wore it just started feeling more and more disingenuous. I didn't hate apologies, I was afraid of them, and was I just saying that so I'd have an excuse never to apologize? And Lord knows I had plenty of opportunities to.

I hated apologies that were sincere. I hated apologies that weren't full of qualifiers, apologies that didn't so much apologize as excuse. I hated the ones that didn't leave any weasel room, that admitted fault--that were, in short, the opposite of everything I ever said. Most of all, though, I hated the ones that were short. No eloquent speeches or careful wording, just "I'm sorry."

Fortunately I never had to do any of that, because I hated apologies, and that was a thing--if it ever wore on the patience of friends far nobler than I ever aspired to be, they could comfort themselves. It's just a thing. It's not important. Or it wasn't until something finally happened that time, a wry smile, a roll of the eyes, and a dismissive joke couldn't fix.

And for the longest time I hoped I could just wait it out longer, to do anything but the things I always said that I hated. But it didn't make anything better, and after far too long I finally stopped fooling myself--and I was the only person left I still was.

All of which to say: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

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