I’m sorry

by sunspears

This morning you woke up normally. To the sound of your mother’s footsteps fretting around your room, getting your clothes ready for the day all while trying to rouse you up to eat breakfast. So you sit up and carefully climb down your bunk bed, grabbing your phone off the vanity table before heading out to the dining room. As you eat, you check the notifications that have accumulated during the time you were asleep, and pore through them lazily and sleepily. One particular link, however, captures your attention more than usual. 

It’s heartbreaking. People deem it unimportant, trivial compared to the actual problems and issues the world face today, but to you it’s a become a constant influence in your everyday life. You cry. Your sister asks you what’s wrong, watching worriedly as you sob into your bowlful of centra that all to suddenly taste more like cardboard than a combination of sugared cornflakes and stars. You mother and father ask what’s wrong but they won’t understand. 

You want to miss school but it’s not a viable reason enough. You soldier on through the day, avoiding talking about the dilemma even though almost everyone around you know and want to ask you about it, eager to hear the opinion of the few people they know that we’re affected by the issue. Your friend goes out of their way to make time for you and comfort you: eat with you, hang out with you, listen to you, talk to you and keep you distracted until you feel like the heavy weight hanging above you has finally been put to the back burner. 

However the night comes and there’s a lull in the household, everyone asleep and it’s only you and your mind awake and reeling, still processing and trying to make sense of everything.

And suddenly it’s gotten so hard to breathe, like the anvil above your head had migrated to your chest cavity and is therefore, weighing down on your lungs and crushing your heart into your vertebrae. Your nose stings and you can feel your eyes welling up with tears but nothing comes out. You want to cry so hard and so bad and so desperately but your body does not want to cope, resisting the need to let go. 

But maybe it’s because you don’t want to let go. Maybe it’s because you still hang onto that slim chance that this may all just be some nightmare you haven’t woken up from. That you’ll wake up and everything would be back to normal and you can breathe easy once again. 

It’s all just a pipe dream, though. The reality is that we are all human and have our breaking points, kind of like you with your overwhelming emotions and anchor-heavy heart. It’s true when they say that bands save lives, but they never said that they devastate too. But then, isn’t that also human nature?  We make things strong only to break them down only to know that we can. 

And I’m sorry for that. I know you are too. And I forgive you. 

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