I apologize

I’ve confined my mind, soul, and entire being into a box with dusty, dark walls for too long. I let myself sleep in forsaken barracks with messages written on the walls that explained that cutting was the only away to cope, and that I didn’t need anything better; I didn’t even deserve better. I gave myself no other alternative, and so I continued to believe that this way of life was acceptable. I saw smiles on my friends’ faces, and I watched them skip as I dragged. For years, as the seasons changed, I remained stagnant at best.

And so I want to apologize, to the daydream-believing girl who saw the world in technicolor; who was on the right path, and had no desire to take another route to getting to Today. I apologize for asking her to slip into the kitchen once her step mother had backed out of the driveway; I apologize for telling her where the knives with teeth that bite were located; I apologize for convincing her to take the knife and relieve her confusion and depression on her own flesh. I apologize for suggesting that she carry a razor in her purse “just incase” at thirteen, and at fourteen for asking her to carve “Mom” into her thigh in the desperate hours before the sun rises, it took so long to heal. I apologize to her at sixteen for allowing her to relapse, after finally learning to live cleanly. I apologize for convincing her to love it, to crave it, and to let it swallow her for years.

I apologize for letting her listen to hundreds of her mother’s nasty voicemails, and for allowing them to become the soundtrack of her life; on loop, every day, “I never had a child, the past thirteen years of my life have meant nothing to me, forget my phone number, never contact me again”. I apologize to her for not understanding her mother’s sickness sooner, and for taking the estrangement and the cruel words personally. I apologize for asking her to believe that she has no other fate than to resemble her mother.

But apologies, no matter how poetic, or sincerely sculpted are still only words. It’s time to set her soul free, and watch her run with a new state of mind.

After 7 years I forgive myself, and I’m ready to feel alive again. I refuse to be bound by my past actions, by my mother’s sickness, or by the expectations of anyone but myself. I deserve better.