The year is about to end, but I still find ways to hurt, disappoint, and fail. At this point, I think it’s a special talent that only I have. How blessed am I to be a perfect disappointment?
With this great power, which I am so lucky to be blessed with, comes an astronomically colossal amount of guilt.
And most of the time, as pathetic as it sounds, I know that all I can say is I’m sorry.
Here are my last-minute apologies. For you, for him, for her, for them, for everyone.
I’m sorry for being born like this. It wasn’t your fault or my fault. Let’s just say that it was god’s fault. That’s just how life works. We don’t have control over everything. Who could have known you’d be stuck with me? You didn’t ask for this, didn’t you? If I could turn back time, I would do anything just to protect you from the avalanche of pain headed your way in the form of me.
Some storms just come and ruin everything. You’re perfectly happy and fine one minute, and then it comes crashing in and leaving destruction in its wake.
I’m sorry for growing up like this. I’m sure you had high hopes and expectations. You must have believed I’d amount to something, that I’ll achieve many great things. That I’ll leave a name so universal that I’ll live for centuries. But you thought wrong, and I took the wrong road. The name I left behind was written on sand and was washed away within seconds of being written.
You won’t be hearing about me when my time comes. But I hope some faded pictures hidden inside my favorite books will remind you that my fire once burned.
I’m sorry for not being what you expected. I know I’m not a failure in everything. In fact, I’m pretty good at fooling everyone into thinking I’m a better person than the person I know I am. I’m sorry if I seemed like a good friend at first; I’m sorry if I looked like an angel coming down to save you. I’m not, and I think you know that now.
I’m sorry for not being worthy of your praises. Being praised is a trophy that not anyone can strive to achieve. I never did go far enough to push myself to earn your praises. But seeing other people do nothing and still be rewarded makes me feel like a knife is carving the word “unworthy” on my chest. I guess it’s a good thing I never tried. If I had tried and been given nothing, it would have broken me.
I’m sorry she’s better than me. What a stupid apology. I know that. But I still can’t help but notice the pressure that comes from seeing the immense gap between me and her. I tried my best; I worked hard, did my responsibilities, carried my own weight. But it’s not enough for you. My efforts were not enough. She was just born better than me.
It’s like heaven decided that I was the prototype, and she was the successful final product. All sparkly, shiny, and sleek. Made to show off to the world and be loved by all people. And I’m locked away in the storage. If I’m lucky, they’ll put me in a glass box with a label saying “First Attempt” instead of “Failure”.
I’m sorry for not being good enough to make you happy. I say this with all honesty. I’m not sure I’ve ever been happy with myself, so how could I expect myself to make you at least a little bit happy? That didn’t stop me from trying, though. In every word, action, and thought, I loved you. At night, in the morning, while I was working or eating or reading. You were everywhere. I closed my eyes and only saw you.
But, I made the mistake of loving you the way I wanted to be loved. I should have asked you more, I should have been more observant and considerate and sensitive. I should have...
I can’t count how many times my tongue has pierced through people’s hearts. I’m beginning to think I’m truly cursed. If I was born like this, I guess I’ll have to get used to it. Should I get used to it?
I’m aware enough to know that no number of apologies will make up for the things I’ve said and done. I could say I’ll do better; I’ll be more considerate, I’ll think more. But I keep slipping and end up doing the opposite. It’s my circle of life. There’s no forgive and forget. There’s only pain and numbness.
In the end, I got used to it. You’ll get used to it. Both sides are hurting, and we don’t know when it will end. I wish I could forget, I wish I could erase all of it. But that would be unfair for you. I will carry this burden until the day I die. It’s the least I can do for you.
Not once did I ever think I was perfect or close to perfection. The world has told me multiple times that, no matter how much effort I put into something, it will still lack something. They never told me what was missing. How was I supposed to improve if I don’t even know what I’m missing?
The world is so harsh. I crumble every time. I’m sorry for being weak. I’m sorry for missing so many puzzle pieces.
I apologize to everyone.
But most of all, I apologize to me.
I’m sorry for never loving you the way you deserved to be loved. I was always busy with trying to impress other people. I neglected you for years. Now that we’re alone, now that I have nothing to distract me from the turbulence inside, I see how much rubble had fallen, how many glasses have shattered, and how many emotions have accumulated and flooded over.
What a mess. What a mess you are. I’m sorry for leaving you alone for years. I hurt so many people and never noticed that the person I hurt most was myself.
I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. You poor little thing.
You deserved better. You all deserved better.
I will keep saying I’ll do better. I’ll make more promises. I’ll keep dreaming of a better life.
But we know how the story goes.
So, I’m sorry. For yesterday, for today, and for what will inevitably come.
This is my last-minute apology. Next year, I’ll write a better one.
