Hurt.

There is something about hurting someone that you love that is especially bitter. It doesn’t matter your relationship: brother or sister, parent, the man you love or the best friend you’d do anything for. The ache that you feel as the realization of what you’ve done, either by accident or in retaliation, leaves scars of its own; scars that cut through your soul, penetrating the essence of who you are. A pain that burrows deep into your heart begins to grow and even after apologies are made and forgiveness is supplied something remains changed. There is one thing that cannot be denied. You are the bad guy. You’re the person in the wrong and the one that made the mistakes. Any consequences of the insult are at your hand. Nothing is so painful, so immensely agonizing as knowing that because of what you did whether out of anger or your own personal loneliness or hurt. You want to explain. You want them to understand where those things came from, how you were feeling, and why it was said or done but you can’t because no matter what you say or how many times you pour out the sorrow and regrets of your heart it isn’t going to make things go back to normal. Things will never be the same and it’s because of you. Those words taste of acid even as I write them. I’m sorry. What if that isn’t enough? What if I’m sorry isn’t going to fix things? What do you do then?

To everyone I’ve hurt with calloused words or shallow thoughts, I am sorry. My sincerest apology may not be enough, but I need you to know that the intent was never to hurt or harm. I never meant to offend. That doesn’t make it all right, though, does it? Those words aren’t going to take away the sting or heal the wound. It isn’t going to change the fact that sometimes we hurt the ones we love the most and that makes that hurt greater than anything else.

I’m sorry.