“we always found a way” by Sasha on her couch

Wednesday July 31, 2019
11:10pm
5 minutes
From a thank you card

This is you, body coiled and then crumpled
naked in pillows, the baby thrashing
an arm’s length away

We have always found a way back to how we tether,
how we teethe the truth, a bone
like the dinosaurs on display

You want so much

This is the heart within the heart,
a love that I didn’t know was possible,
the ache that grabs my throat

licks my cheek,
tells me to grovel and snarl,
thumbs protected by fingers,

protected by the willingness to pretend.
I stick sorry across your torso,
your back, your jaw

I want so much

I see myself through your eyes
and she’s a famished feral one,
governed by hunger

frozen by fear.
I stick sorry on the tip of my tongue,
lick my arms, legs, belly

Hold up one finger to you
A white flag.

“which are past their upright peak” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Wednesday February 27, 2019
7:14am
5 minutes
Tulips for Barbara
Ann E. Michael

It’s okay if you want me to leave you be.
I know that it might feel like there’s nothing left to say.
I’m sorry I’m so sorry please forgive me please please I’m sorry.

These are the lines that I practice
piano scales a thousand moments a thousand days
You are held in my mind’s eye
the Wizard of my Oz

I turn forgiveness over in my mouth
a bitter lozenge
it sinks to the bottom of the well
it settles

I send you another letter
this time I say none of the lines
I’ve been practicing
I try something new

Yellow tulips on the table
past their upright peak
a few petals fallen
scattered ashes

“I didn’t like my job” by Julia at her desk

Monday February 18, 2019 5 minutes The Wild Dogs of Hong Kong Sarah Vallance I was there for two weeks and I knew that I would be leaving for good but I didn’t tell them that I said I was looking for summer employment Hello I’m calling from Toledo University and blah blah blah Sign up for this and blah blah blah this is Lisa that’s my real name… I met a woman named Sayward who referred to herself as Lisa on calls so she wouldn’t have to spell her name each time and justify that her dad was born in Japan She had brown bangs and a weird furry pouch that she wore around her waist and kept her diamond coins or whatever she called them inside She invited me to go LARPING with her but could not detect the actor in my voice when I said I was deeply interested I wanted to know the ins and outs of these people unlike me who would die a thousand deaths and come back as pizza and then want to date each other when they took off their masks Or maybe they left their masks on Either way I said I’d be happy to go along Cause I wanted to film it or write about it as if it were mine Sayward tried to teach me how to knit and lent me $2 to ride the bus I never said goodbye to her or explained that I was temporarily working there cause I didn’t care and I think she got attached to me Who wouldn’t, when someone says they love everything you do You think you’ve found a kindred or something sweet like that

“her sarcastic curl of a smile” By Sasha at her desk

Monday February 4, 2019
2:28pm
5 minutes
Finders Keepers
Stephen King

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write back, D. It’s not that I haven’t been thinking of you, it’s that whenever I sat down at the computer to respond I couldn’t bring myself to actually hit send. I’ve deleted and re-written so many versions of this that I’ve lost count. Really all that I can say at this time is I’m not ready to talk. Grief is a strange beast, sometimes sarcastic, sometimes snarling, sometimes tender, and I’m doing my best to roll with it all honestly, and honesty for me right now looks like – I still need space. I trust that you’ll be able to understand, and that you’ll stop reaching out. When your name appears in my Inbox it’s like you’re knocking at my door, and I can’t have you knocking at my door right now, D.

“I never tire of saying that” by Julia on the Greyhound

Saturday December 29, 2018
5:20pm
5 minutes
Man’s Search For Meaning
Viktor E. Frankl

I tire of saying certain words
Yes
Sorry
Unfortunately
I love you
It’s not on purpose but I know what I hate and I say it now to be clear and not cutting
But I never tire of saying what is bigger than me and truer than you
I say it with the inside of my cheek and the silk of my skin
I say it with the moon bearing witness
with the oven mitts on
with the bathroom door open
I want this
I don’t want this
I tire because the struggle of wanting and not wanting is one of deep diving
There is no around it
Above it
Under it
To travel down you have to go through it
And deeper still
The pain is exhaustible and yet there is no shortcut
No other way

“Did you try to reply to my email about confidence?” By Sasha at Knowlton Lake

Wednesday September 27, 2017
8:42am
5 minutes
From an e-blast

Dear Theresa,

First, let me start by saying I’m delighted that you’ve joined our team. You are a welcome addition. Your intuitive approach, coupled with your intellect are benefitting the team. Several of your colleagues are singing your praises to upper management daily.

I’m writing to address the superlative questions that layer each of your emails. Please stop it. I find that several employees have this unfortunate habit, and it undermines intellect and experience. You are a qualified leader. Own it.

“if indoors, stay indoors” by Julia at her desk


Monday June 26, 2017
10:56pm
5 minutes
from the Central 1 credit union emergency response plan

The man in the green hat was shouting loudly on his cell-phone as he jogged his small dog around the pool and back and back and back.
We watched as he panted into somebody’s ear and didn’t know who to feel more sorry for. Dog included.
I looked at Lexi and knew I would not always love her. I smiled and tugged her shirt at the v.
We stayed there for a while, counting times he reached to yank up his boxer shorts poking through with his phoned hand.
When we walked home I intentionally stepped on the back of her foot and made her yelp.
I kissed her sorry, so sorry, so so sorry.

“slack jawed” by Sasha in the bath


Thursday October 12, 2016
11:09pm
5 minutes
From an email

I wasn’t used to the attention
an excuse
okay
a discretion
I did fifteen things I regret
okay
starting and ending with
you
Tears fall onto a notebook page
a and e and s swell and bleed
a womb away my sister
nurses the next generation
It’s late there
My sorry will never be
enough
for the slack jaw
fuck
on the couch
in the country
My regrets bite my tongue
Assault my dreams
night after night
season after fall
driving cars off cliffs
walking topless into a family reunion
in Florida

“We got a good surge” by Julia by her bed


Thursday, July 21, 2016
12:16am
5 minutes
overhead at The Rickshaw

Because there was an opening
we stood up tall on a mountain and opened our mouths to the wind
We wanted to
We wanted to shout
out
all of the sadness and all of our lungs
Just in case she was listening
Just in case she was sorry
I dream of her in reds and yellows
In basil and lavender
In honey and lace
She is perfect still in a world where compliments cannot buy her
I dream of her in here yes today please
She is gone like a feather from a wing
And I can only let my agony
into the wild
As a ghost
As a whisper
As a lullaby

“Let’s roll, babycakes” by Julia at her dining table


Thursday April 14, 2016
11:52pm
5 minutes
overheard on Arbutus

I want you to beg me to stay when I tell you I’ll be sleeping at my mother’s place tonight. I want you to get on your knees and apologize for being a dick so I can forgive you and then apologize for being a dick back to you. I’m angry but I won’t be later but I don’t know how to turn this thing around before later is later. I feel like I’ve pushed all your buttons and there’s no easy rewind let’s pretend that never happened one to press. Why don’t you come with one like that? I am at the door with my overnight bag and I want you to throw me a banana if you’re not going to try to keep me from going. Let me know you still care about my potassium intake even when we’re hating each other. Even when you’re secretly glad that I won’t be sleeping beside you tonight to remind you of this stupid fight we both engaged in when we were both enraged about the thing we won’t remember in the morning.

“Inside our homes there is usually” by Julia on her couch


Sunday February 28, 2016
11:44pm
5 minutes
from a magazine cutout/em>

Inside our homes there is usually less noise, more quiet, less hate, more love.
Usually.
Tonight there is more crying, less calm, more shaming, less light.
We are both nothing and everything, trying to love each other’s nothing and everything.
You do a better job with it than I do. When I am absolutely nothing nothing, you are still everything everything.
I ask you why you are so nice to me.
You answer with a forehead kiss and a squeeze.
I tell you you haven’t left enough space for me here.
You answer with a squeeze and direct eye-contact.
You will not let me take any prisoners.
You are so happy to be brought on board when I remember that you deserve that.
We are each other’s everything. We are our own nothings.
I have to remember that part too.
If I’m painting broad strokes of the everyday, there is usually more laughter, less pain, more teamwork less fight.
It depends on many things.
The things that usually happen 100% inside of me.

“SUPREMEBEING” by Julia at her dining table


Thursday February 25, 2016
11:27pm
5 minutes
Treasures & Travels Blog

You yelled in the car ride over to Tessa’s gallery opening and I had to beg you to pull over so I could get out before you killed us both with your rage. When I got out of the car I wiped my eyes, reapplied the lipstick I had chewed off and walked so fast ahead of you it may have seemed like I was trying to lose you. For the record: I was. I forced a smile to peel onto my lips and I strut through the trendy studio space like I invented the idea of putting so many pillars everywhere. Tessa was happy to see me and she hugged me tight and said How are you though?! I lied through my teeth and said Your art makes me want to be a better person. She was thrilled and then she left me alone. You finally entered the gallery and by that moment I thought you had decided not to come at all. I was planning my way home in my head and how when I finally got back, if you were still awake, I’d just walk straight to the bedroom and close the door. You saw that I saw you and even when I turned my back to you, you came right over to me and kissed me so sorry I forgot for a second how scared I was just minutes ago. I didn’t mean it, you cooed in my ear. I didn’t mean any of it.

“a wacky one” by Julia at her dining table


Saturday, January 16, 2016
12:05pm
5 minutes
overheard on the 16 bus

I don’t know what he meant when he said “That’s what you do.”
Said like an insult instead of forgiveness. Said like punishment. Said like tar.
I said I was sorry for nagging him and he said, “That’s what you do.”
Bells. Sirens. Those words went off in my brain like a fourth of July massacre.
That tone.
Loud.
And clear.
But I don’t know what he meant, that I nag, that’s what I do? Like he’s come to know me as the type who won’t ever pick a battle, or back down from an opinion that not everyone shares?
Or that I am sorry a lot and so I apologize a lot, and maybe that’s the thing that I do.
Either way it did not feel like a compliment.
Or a way to mend the bridge that we had both taken a match to earlier.
I wanted to reach him when he felt far away.
My instinct was to cry so I made very sure not to.

“It wasn’t good in the first place” by Julia at Kafka’s


Saturday, October 10,2015 at Kafka’s
3:35pm
5 minutes
overheard at Gene Cafe

I am making amends with my old self. I want to say I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused her. She was young, she didn’t know any better. And she tried. Oh, she tried. She wasn’t trying to hurt me and I see that now, she did her best, even though she was not well-rested. A lot of decisions made after not enough sleep. And a lot of decisions made, without the right things to eat. Putting toxins in her belly, instead of love, she did her best. She did what she thought was enough.
I am making amends with my old self. She was young, she didn’t know better. And she tried. Oh, she tried. I can see her efforts now. Holding up a cracked mirror. I can see her clearer. She was just looking to find a little peace. A little more ease. A little more release. And sometimes it was hard and she dug her heels in, she didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of the universe. Oh, how do I blame her? She hadn’t met me yet. So now I can forgive her. She did her damn best.
I am making amends with my old self. I’m sorry for all the harsh words I’ve said. She was young, she didn’t know better. And she tried. Oh, she tried. I should be offering thanks. I should be offering an olive branch. I should be inviting her to stay the night if she needs to visit again.

“Weren’t you sorry” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday March 15, 2015
12:34am
5 minutes
from Sputnik Sweetheart
Haruki Murakami


weren’t you sorry when you left the party early and then the shit hit the fan and nothing was the same
weren’t you sorry when you tied yourself in knots to please them and then they smirked anyway
weren’t you sorry when the moon was full and you were planted on the couch eyes on the screen
weren’t you sorry you never said sorry for blaming that shiny one for something she didn’t do

round and round and round
more predictable than the summer following spring
these days at least
it’s getting hotter here
and colder there
these days
these long sorry days
you tie a string around your finger to remind you to recycle

“And it’s taking me a second so I’m sorry.” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday February 27, 2015
10:07am
5 minutes
Lungs
Duncan MacMillan


– You’re making that face again…
– What face?
That face.
– It’s just my face. I don’t know what you –
– It’s not just your face! I love your face. You’re making that face you make when you know you should apologize –
– I’m not gonna apologize –
– Then stop making that face.
– You’re making a face too, you know!
– Oh yeah? What does it say?
– It says “I’m smugggg…”
– Ha!
– It isn’t funny. I’m mad.
– I know that –
– And I’m offended that you think something’s off with my face. I always thought it was one of the few things I have going for me –
– HA!
– WHAT?!
– You’re spiralling…
– I know… It’s taking me a second to apologize because it’s not that black and white. It’s not just “SORRY! MY BAD!” and then let’s go watch a movie!
– Okay.
– Stop.
– What?
– Stop being so –
– Calm?
– …
– …
– I’m sorry.
– Thank you.
– …
– Your face is back now!

“breaking laws and regulations” by Julia on her couch


Sunday February 22, 2015
5:50pm
5 minutes
Nothing But Money
Greg B. Smith


She never had a record until she did and couldn’t say that anymore. She didn’t say it enough, in fact, when she could freely and honestly do it. Now she has to announce that it’s no longer clean, pristine, untouched. She has to tell potential employers that she isn’t legally allowed to drive until 2017 because of a current DUI charge. She’d like to tell them that it wasn’t really her fault in the first place, but people don’t hear excuses when all they can see is “criminal record”. Criminal. That’s what she had become. And again, she wished she would have started more conversations with “I’m not a criminal” because now she isn’t able to identify with anything else. She hugged the woman she got to chatting with in the line at the post office who said to “try to stop identifying yourself with things in this world. Things are not you. And you are not things. Your failures do not define you. Your successes, though we’d like them to, don’t either.”

“When did we leave for thing there?” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday January 18, 2015
10:10pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Julia’s aunt’s house

Little one, if you call? I’ll be there before you can say my name again, before you can blink twenty times, before you get scared. If you’re tucked in and you get a chill, close your eyes and imagine you’re on the beach and the ocean is coo-ing you and crashing you to warmth and sleep. My baby, the nightmares come, they do, I’m sorry, but so do the ecstatic dreams of present and future. When the nightmares come just meet them. Meet them, don’t run. They’ll chase you if you try to get away. Face them and say, “HEY! YOU!” And be patient because maybe around the next corner is something fabulous. When we leave things behind, we rarely need to go back for them, they are usually good just where they are. I love you, monkey, I love you fiercely and massively. I love you wider than the sky.

“Crisis points but also the potential for major realizations” by Julia on Laura’s couch


Saturday January 3, 2015
10:11pm
5 minutes
http://www.mysticmama.com

It’s been a hard day. Even just the taste of this minty ginger honey lime tea I’m sipping makes me cry. Sweet things hurt and hurt things flash in my mind like the worst bits of an unwelcome nightmare. Can I say I’m sorry? Will it do anything? Does it help me? Does it help my hurt thing? I don’t know when the last time my world shook like this. The last time it rattled under my feet making my bones knock against themselves. You there, me here–we live in different moments, in different hopes. To be honest, I’m not even sure if we can both exist at the same time. You’re bigger than me and I’m bigger than you. It doesn’t make sense. It won’t connect like we’d have wanted.
This day…this day….

“YOU A LIAR” by Julia on her couch


Friday, July 18, 2014
11:32pm
5 minutes
overheard on queen st west


OH I HAVE HAD SO MUCH A YOU THAT IT IS ENOUGH NOW. ENOUGH, NOW, ADRIAN. WHY YOU GOTTA BE SO LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME, HUH? NOBODY EVER EVEN TAUGHT YOU HOW TO ACT, HUH, ADRIAN? ENOUGH BECAUSE IT HURTS MY HEART AND ENOUGH BECAUSE IT HURTS MY EVERYTHING ELSE EVEN MORE, ADRIAN. YOU HAVE BEEN A BAD PERSON. BAD LIKE THE WORST WEATHER. BAD LIKE THE RAIN, ADRIAN. YOU A LIAR. YOU A LIAR AND NOW I KNOW IT AND NOW EVERYBODY KNOWS IT. WHY COULDN’T YOU BE GOOD? WHY DID YOU MAKE ME BELIEVE YOU WERE GOOD WHEN YOU NEVER COULD BE GOOD. NOT EVER. YOU LIED. YOU A LIAR. YOU A LIAR TO ME. WHEN I FIRST SAW YOU I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY ONLY. AND NOW. AND NOW I AM FIGHTING TO BE ALIVE WITHOUT THE YOU I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO BE. SO NOW I AM DONE. I AM SORRY BUT I AM NO MORE OF WHAT YOU THOUGHT I WAS. I WAS DIFFERENT BEFORE BUT NOW I AM DIFFERENT FROM THAT TOO, ADRIAN. YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN ME THE LOVE THAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE. YOU SHOULD NOT A LIED TO ME. REMEMBER WHEN I PROMISED YOU I WOULD BE YOURS? YOU DON’T EVEN REMEMBER THAT, DO YOU ADRIAN? I PROMISED AND I AM NOT A LIAR, YOU A LIAR. YOU THE ONE THAT MAKES ME WISH I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE. IT IS ENOUGH NOW, ADRIAN. I WANT YOU TO BE SORRY. I WANT A SORRY FROM YOUR LIPS. CAN YOU PLEASE TRY TO BE SORRY? CAN YOU PLEASE TRY TO SEE MY HURT NOW THAT YOU GAVE UP ON ME AND YOU TOGETHER?

“do not expose” by Julia on her couch


Sunday April 6, 2014
12:14am
5 minutes
from the back of a pack of gum

Ok so I’m
Sorry about two things
I’ll tell you
But first know that I’m
Sorry
Ok so
In order if I have to?
Number 1)
I should not have taken your blue scarf out of the car
I thought you wouldn’t notice
Now I’m sorry
For more than two things
I won’t say anything
but apologies
From here on out
Sorry for
Stealing your blue scarf from your car
Sorry for thinking
You wouldn’t even
Miss it
Sorry for believing
You were a
Fool
Sorry for not giving
You enough
credit
Because you deserve
All the credit
In the whole world
Sorry for then
wearing
Your blue scarf
To
Mark and Tracy’s wedding
And getting vomit on it
And getting shrimp
cocktail sauce
on it
Sorry for not asking
Sorry for not telling
Sorry for being careless
Sorry
For
Everything
Number 2)
Sorry for letting your plant die

“I ordered a half sandwich” by Sasha at The Holy Oak


Saturday February 1, 2014 at The Holy Oak
12:05pm
5 minutes
The True Secret of Writing
Natalie Goldberg


Walked up to the counter and thought, “this is the first day of the rest of my life.” The guy in the orange toque said, “What would you like?” “A reformation?” He didn’t get my joke, or whatever it was. I ordered a half sandwich (tuna), sat down and waited. When the guy came with the sandwich I said, “sorry for being weird. I’m having a rough week…” He smiled. He started to walk away. “I’m just… I got evicted. I’m pretty much homeless as of next month. And my family’s not from here so it’s pretty…” he turned around. “Sorry to hear that,” he said. I felt like an asshole. I felt like a walking “over-share”. I ate my sandwich. A minute later the guy came back. “Here’s the other half,” he smiled. “I think you need it more than I do. Tuna is the best.” I started to cry. “Shitshitshit,” I said, blubbering mayo and bits of fish and celery. “It’s okay…” He gave me some napkins. He looked sorry for me. He looked gentle and sweet and like he probably has really soft flannel sheets. When it was time for me to go, I left a twenty on the table. Even though it wasn’t the kinda place where you tip.

“once” by Julia on the 506 going west


Wednesday December 11, 2013
7:51pm
5 minutes
from a poster for Once The Musical

Once she lied
He forgave her
Kisses on top of her head
And everything
She said she was sorry
And she meant it
Nothing made her feel worse
He said shh shh and held her close
Her eyes glassy
Her mouth dry
It’s not over it’s not over
He soothed her
Holding her heart in a velvet pouch
So she wouldn’t try to hurt it even more
She eventually forgave herself
He never stopped loving her
She would slip sometimes
Bringing up the past because it was eating at her
Shh shh he’d say to her
This is not then, it’s now
She would test him
Without even knowing it
Making him feel bad for things
That he couldn’t understand
And he loved her anyway
He came home after bitter fights
He wrote her love notes
Hiding them in her coat pockets
And on the bathroom mirror
So she’d know
And so she’d believe
That when he said he would always want her
He meant it

“We’ve been expecting you” by Sasha at her desk


Friday December 6, 2013
6:57pm
5 minutes
a Welcome To Toronto lamp post sign

I understand that you’re practising honesty. I understand that when you woke up you smelt fear. I understand that you peed blood and now you’re terrified that you’re dying. I understand that that probably makes you want to fuck other people. I understand that I might find you under a pile of clothes you’ve been meaning to bring to Goodwill. Here’s my good will – I love you. I’ll whisper that and I’ll scream it, I’ll sing it to the tune of Someone Like You. I’m sorry but I’m not sorry. It’s overrated. “Sorry”. I’m over the pleasantries. I’m over the aromatherapy baths. I’m crunching road salt like Skittles and I’m saying “We’ve been expecting you” to Doubt.

“see us soon!” by Julia at East Liberty Medical Centre


Thursday, September 5, 2013
3:25pm
5 minutes
Toronto public health poster

You heard them calling your name from across the yard but you were already too far gone out of their lives to turn back and wave.
“Goodbye”
You made that decision a long time ago but it was hard so you hadn’t come to terms with it until now.
“I can’t”
You wrestled with the idea of it all, the pain, the regret. You couldn’t count your finger paintings fast enough.
“Thank you”
You kept walking as if on a conveyor belt, every step taking you one more year, one more lifetime away.
“Wait”
You asked me if I would send you their pictures, they’re letters in the mail, signed by each of them in their own hand.
“Why”
I couldn’t promise you what I couldn’t bear to offer. It would be my pain too, every time I sealed the envelope with their kisses for you. Send the sweetness away to nowhere because that’s where it felt like you were existing.
“Please”
You chose your path. You picked the soft mattress to lay on, and the perfect duvet to lay under. You made it up so well it felt like a good thing.
“See us soon”
They’d call, in their sleep, in their restless daydreams of you.

“and not mercy” by Julia at Starbucks


Wednesday February 20, 2013 at Starbucks
4:29pm
5 minutes
Romeo and Juliet
William Shakespeare


And not mercy, that’s not what I want. If you have it to give, fine, that’s one thing. But I will not ask for it. I will not beg. I don’t do things like that. I never have. I never will.
I woke up one cold morning and blamed the snow for cooling my skin. I had left the window open. Did I not invite it in? I did. I did. I realized then I was to blame for the misfortunes, the misguided ideas.
I offered once, to the man of my dreams, please take half of this shortbread. Take half and I will have the other. He forgot it and left the whole thing on the counter. I ate it all. I felt bad. Why? Did I not invite the guilt? That was one half that I had already offered up. How dare I pretend not to notice my promise?
That is why. That is why the mercy may come, but not if I request it. I do not deserve it. I do not want it if it comes falsely, if it comes because I can’t stand being in a room by myself surrounded by mirrors.
My skin, chilled from watching snow flakes hit it, my soul, ridden with the guilt that I burned in it myself. I am a mosaic of mistakes and regret and unfortunate decisions. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself.
Pain will come to those who cross their fingers tightly and wish and wish and wish for it.

“The only time” by Julia on the subway going west


Tuesday February 5, 2013
11:00pm
5 minutes
The 4-Hour Body by Timothy Ferriss

Here’s everything that I’m thinking right now: I’m alone, I’m happy, I’m stubborn, I’m sticky, I’m pmsing hardcore, and I really really miss the way your stubble feels on my forehead. Is that okay with you? That you get to leave and I get to deal with you being gone every single day. I’m happy right now. In this moment. I’m not happy that you left me, or overall that I’m alone. Those two things go together in list format not in realistic emotions and reasons format. I hope you like the new woman you’re with and I hope she never screams out someone else’s name. I said I was sorry about that okay? It wasn’t on purpose and it wasn’t personal. I hope you know that if you had done that to me I would have laughed about it eventually. The only time I’m not sorry about is when I shook your shoulders and made you kiss me even when you said I was the last person on the face of the earth you wanted to kiss. Now obviously that was a good thing because you were lying to yourself when you said that, and it was the best goddamn kiss of your life.

“Cheerful cherry” by Julia at her kitchen table


Tuesday, December 18, 2012
12:25am
5 minutes
http://www.lilyboutique.com

Saying you’re sorry doesn’t mean you’re actually sorry. It means you understand what to say in order to get someone to stop being mad at you, but it doesn’t, for even one second, mean that you are. That you feel remorse, that you wish you had never done the thing you did. It means that for the moment, you’d much rather not argue. That you’d much rather give in and pretend like you know you did something wrong to win the affection of the person accusing you of doing the wronging. We are stupid humans. The amount of energythat we donate to the act of forgiving and being sorry is just plain stupid. We all know somehwere deep down, that no one is perfect, that people are going to hurt us, and most of all, that no one has the capacity to change, even if we think they do or should assume that they do in order to get to sleep at night. It’s a convincing game we play. We try to tell ourselves there is good and that the good is not only coming from within, but from all four corners of the world. The people who are smart enough say they’re sorry. They smile and let a single tear fall. Their appology is tangible and they manipulate the rest of us with their cunning ways. We are left to decide who in fact is truly sorry. And if we can be honest with ourselves, we’d know that not one of us is. Not even ourselves, the thing we think is above all else. No one is sorry. For sorry means that those actions will not happen ever again.