for whatever it may be worth
My brother has always been the better at apologies, at peace offerings, at appropriating forgiveness for himself. He has a flair for it, he does it with aplomb, until the apology is all you remember and the whys all fade away.
The secret is in the spectacle, I suppose. He discards the issue, replacing it instead with images of himself, counting on the sentiment of a hundred roses, or a giant, fluffy bear, or the flick of car keys. He says sorry without ever saying anything. That’s his secret. He keeps his mouth shut. He is apologetic, but he never apologizes for himself.
I’m not like my brother. No one ever remembers my apologies. They are merely held up to the light with a smile, then left to the side like used tissue. I could never remember that often, the act itself is enough. The reason is only secondary.
Here I am, blathering like an idiot.
I wish I was better at this.
I’m sorry.
Originally published on Tumblr, July 2010.