Holding Onto To What I Haven’t Got.

I know the better part of me is smart, logical, nimble, and quick in my mind. I’m aware of what’s happening around me. I can process this information and let it coarse through the neurotransmitters, synapses and retain the information. I don’t forget when it really matters. But then there’s the other part of me… Ohh the part that I get angry with. The side of me that is stubborn like a child, reckless, thoughtless, doesn’t care what is right or wrong. She’s there in the back of my mind, waiting to jump in on any given situation that seems like it has some promise of ruin. She’s there, locked and loaded.

The logical part of me does everything it can do to hold this other part of me back. She’s struggling hard to be the voice of reason to the childish side of me. She’s trying to speak in ways that will make sense, trying so hard to make her see the light, the flaws in her logic. But the child doesn’t care. She wants to feel what she wants, no matter how much it’ll hurt in the end. So the logical part of me gives up, and waits for the child to realize how fucking ignorant she is, and watches as she flees when it blows up in her face. The logical part of me grows weary, bitter, angry, and turns to stone.

There’s many sides to me. Different colors on the color wheel, but with so much black and white in between. In this rainbow of my emotions, mindset, thoughts, feelings, there lies a lot of grey, too. And sometimes all the colors bleed together, revealing a hideous mud-like color that spills over and wrecks my thought process all together. My heart becomes drenched in this dirty brown/grey/tar-like substance.

I’m all over the place. It’s hard for me to catch my breath a lot of the time. My mind runs around so fast and gets intertwined with so many emotions all at once. And yet I’m aware of what’s happening… and sometimes it’s impossible to stop the avalanche that’s about to crash into everything I’ve tried to make sturdy. My mind is an enigma and I’m okay with that. I really am, I’ve come to understand myself even if others don’t. I’m the one who has to live with myself, after all. And while I can’t control others, I can do my best to control myself.

Sometimes life feels like it’s moving in slow motion, and I become heavy and tired. I become weak and unable to hold onto the things I once held or what I’m trying to grasp. It’s like I have a hold on whatever it is, and I swear my grip is tight and it won’t slip away, but I close my eyes for a moment and suddenly I’m falling and I watch at the thing fades out of my vision as I hit the ground. Whatever *it* is, it just becomes another poor decision that slipped away from. That’s what I’ve come to realize what that *it* is. Because I’m unable to hold onto it, it must be for a reason. It must be because it doesn’t want to be held, and I wasted so much time and energy trying to hold on.

I hold onto hope too tightly. I have high hopes for things that, quite frankly, won’t really work out in the end. And I convince myself that IT WILL. I become delusional because I want it so bad, that I can’t see the end of the line and the outcome. I imagine a false outcome. And then I wonder why I’m disappointed in myself for letting it go that far. This can be applied to anything, really. People, dreams, goals––anything tangible. All of those can hold so much hope for me, but I’m unable to control most of those things… because life happens. I can’t control that, either.

I’m learning though. I’m learning to let go. It’s certainly gotten much easier in recent years. I think after I let go of the biggest weight that consumed my life, everything else just seems like a piece of cake. I’ve learned to let go of the things that I have no control over. I’ve learned to move past the struggles that I so dearly face. I look them head on and charge through. I won’t be held down by the shadows of what wishes to consume me. I feel it choke me and in the moment, it feels astonishingly impossible to defeat, but I always do. I’ve learned to let go of people that pussyfoot around me, who can’t put one and one together. I’ve learned to see through the lies and the excuses. And I think one of the most important lessons I’ve learned, is that apologies can be the most empty things you could ever receive.

You see, that heavy weight I spoke of that I let go a little too late was the King of Apologies. Over and over again, he would apologize for doing me wrong, for hurting me, all the reasons I so desperately wanted him to spare me of, he’d offer an empty apology. Of course, I ate it up because I was hungry for his love and it didn’t matter what it took. I handed over forgiveness like candy. It did not matter what it took to be rekindled with that love… Until finally DID matter. Until it finally all built up and tumbled down (like that avalanche) and there wasn’t anything else I could do to stop it. Then I dropped his dead-ass weight that dragged me down into the depths of hell and escaped. But those apologies… they were so fake, so full of unfulfilled promises and a depth as shallow as a rain puddle. He never truly meant them. It took me far too long to see through them.

Coming from years of these senseless apologies, I’ve become numb to the apologies that other people have to offer now. I filter through them much more easily. I can see between the cracks and read between the lines… “Sorry” is such an overused word. I don’t think people understand the weight of how to correctly use it. A “sorry” should be offered when you know damn well you won’t make the same mistake. “Sorry” should be given to someone that you deeply hurt. “Sorry” is meant to correct your mistake immediately, and to never repeat it. “Sorry” is a way of mending the trust you so carelessly broke. “Sorry” is your way of conveying that you’ve learning your lesson. “Sorry” is a way to own the pain you caused and to make better decisions next time. “Sorry” is reserved for you to swallow your words that you heedlessly allowed out of your mouth.

You should mean it. Your “sorry” should be sincere as fuck. “Sorry” is not a filler word. And yet, so many people have shamelessly offered it as a placeholder for their insincere and unstable train of thought. You’re not sorry. You just don’t want to feel guilty for causing someone harm. You think by apologizing, it’ll suddenly make everything better. You think the other person will forgive you so easily. Well, sadly, that’s not always the case. Especially with someone like me, who has been desensitized to apologies. I know when someone cares enough to put some depth behind it, rather than using it as an alibi to their senselessness.

Apologies just don’t mean much to me anymore. I’m grown weary of holding onto something that isn’t tangible. I’ve tried holding onto these words, in hopes that the meaning attached to them is truly sincere. It never is. People are so careless with their words when it involves someone else. I’m tired of people giving me their word, then I trust and rely on it, only to be thrown to the wolves later on. And what do I get? Another empty apology and then life goes on as if it never happened.

Forgiveness isn’t given so easily anymore from me. I don’t ever want to let a person hold so much power over me with their lies, vacant promises, and false apologies. I did that for far too long, and now I’ve become so anesthetized to any sort of those things that attempt to penetrate my state of being. Tell me, what does “sorry” REALLY mean to you? When you apologize, what are you REALLY apologizing for? Think about that. Are you saying it because you *think* that’s what the other person wants to hear? Are you saying it because you have nothing else to say? Are you really “sorry?”

Here’s my apology to those who offer me an empty apology:


…Oh wait, never mind. I don’t owe you an apology for shit because theres’s nothing to be sorry for. I won’t apologize for how the events of the past have shaped and affected the way I feel presently regarding apologies. I’ve only become more diligent with how I proceed with them when they are offered. It’s incredibly difficult for me to believe in them when there’s nothing else to back it up, and the person is just using it as an excuse.

Spare me the reasons. Spare me the wasted apology.



I won’t hold onto them anymore, because you can’t hold onto something that wasn’t ever there to begin with.




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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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