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Apology

I apologized to my brother and I apologized to a woman on our second meeting, in regards to something I did or said, which I can no longer remember, on our first meeting. I apologized to my father and I apologized to the bus driver when it turned out that I was fareless after she had already closed the door and resumed her route. Apologies seemed due and were given to friends, at various times, for being late, or canceling an appointment at the last minute. I apologized to a woman, a different woman than the one mentioned above, many times, for breaking her heart and not loving her like she wanted me to love her, by which she meant like I had loved her before, when I had loved her, and not like now, when I didn’t love her at all, all of a sudden. As a child, I apologized to a shopkeeper while standing beside my mother, who had forced me to return to the shop and the shopkeeper and apologize for stealing a gold-plated box-shaped locket, which I had wanted for some reason unknown to me now, and my apology was tearful and red-cheeked and accepted by the shopkeeper, who really was just a girl in the mall, probably a teenager, and I don’t doubt she and her friends had a good laugh over my apology after she left work, though I have no way of knowing the nature of that laughter, whether it was good-natured or cruel, just plain petty. I apologized to managers and bosses, roughly once a year, for quitting their employment and moving on, though I never once was actually sorry and always felt happy or blessed, lucky to escape with my skin, as the saying goes. I’ve stepped on toes, literally and figuratively, and doing so has elicited apologies. Inadvertent bumps have seemingly required apologies, as I gave them without question, as I have given apologies to waitresses and waiters when I just couldn’t decide. I apologized when I lost a loaned book and I apologized when spilled red wine stained a borrowed one. I apologized to my creditors for not paying them. I apologized to my mother. Pulled over on the side of the road, lights flashing in my rear view mirror, I apologized to various officers of the law, hoping for leniency. I apologized post-premature ejaculation for my lack of control and the cessation of pleasure and for the absence of an orgasm, too many times, including times when I didn’t apologize out loud, knowing that my apology wasn’t wanted, but anyway feeling apologetic and sorrowful, inside. Jesus Christ received my apologies when I was a child and then a teenager for my failings, desperate apologies I have no reason to think weren’t forgiven, but it’s been a long time and now I can’t think of a situation where I could honestly apologize to Jesus, though I don’t want to tempt fate, and actually, as soon as I say that I can’t think of a situation where I would sincerely apologize to Jesus, it becomes clear to me that it might do my soul good to apologize to many of the great men and women of history, Jesus certainly, and Lao Tzu and Einstein and Nietzsche and Amelia Earhart and Marty Buber and Magic Johnson, for not properly honoring their actions and contributions and spirits. Many times, I have apologized for my existence with a down-turned face and flushed skin, many times this happens on the street with strangers approaching, my eyes go down to my feet and I silently apologize for my existence, sometimes I apologized prior to contact, a pre-emptive apology, given by avoidance, by not showing up, by not appearing. I apologized to my sister and my father. I apologized to my step-mother because I didn’t return her car to her by the time she wanted it, because, mainly, I drank way too much alcohol the night before, so much alcohol that I couldn’t properly set an alarm. I apologized for wearing a shirt somebody made a disparaging remark about, though it was an ironic apology, meant to gently reflect the person’s shallowness back in their face and hopefully prompt an apology on their part, which didn’t work, and has never really worked, though I keep trying it, as I think my principles are sound. I apologized for drinking too much. I apologized for missing work due to sickness I caught at the workplace. When the pressure became unbearably intense and I released the enema after two minutes instead of twenty, I apologized to the nurses, who understood and were uniformly kind, for which I was grateful. At a loss for words, I apologized. When I ran out of gum and was unable to offer any, I apologized. I apologized for breaking things, accidentally or not, and I apologized for my laziness. I apologized for not understanding and I apologized for hearing something other than what was said. I apologized all over town, basically, my whole life long. But I never apologized to you. You, who deserves apology most. I always fought you. I always tried to kill you. Smother you. Which I could never do completely, though it’s true that your offering is different every day and the many, many days when I pushed you away and denied you are days I can’t get back. I will never be able to do anything with those days. What could have happened on those days will never happen. I do not know why you are so patient. Anyone else would have left, but then I guess it must be said that you are not a human being. We are petty monsters, us humans, basically. Which you know, I’m sure. Of all my apologies, this apology is the most heartfelt, the most important to me. I think I’ve always been afraid of you. There is no way for me to know how I’ve maimed you. I can only imagine your injuries, your posture, and I can only do so because of you, of course, which is ironic. I don’t know why it’s only now I begin to realize the breadth of my atrocity but I have started to realize and I am sorry, I apologize, I sincerely and solemnly do. I apologize for near daily acts of atrocity. When you were only and always offering your hand, your car. I apologize without expectation. I have hopes, but not expectations. I’m sorry if parts of you have died. I imagine arms turned to gray, cracks forming from desiccation as you retreat deeper, into the torso. I apologize for not using you like you ask to be used. I apologize for not honoring you, for ignoring you, shunning you, spitting in your face and then running away from you. I apologize for not apologizing sooner. I apologize in advance for further transgressions. I know I will try to kill you again. I know I will refuse you again. It’s become a habit and I apologize for that. I don’t want to hurt you, but I know I will, and I apologize. It’s my intention to change my ways. Never have I felt so confident that I can. I don’t expect, remember, but I hope. I want to feed you, clothe you, water your poor arms. I want to treat your wounds, I want to lie down with you and tell you that I’m sorry, that I’m sorry for all I’ve done. I want to whisper my apologies into your ear. To say to your corporal manifestation that I apologize for everything I’ve ever done to this day and for everything I know I will do in the future to your beautiful, wondrous self. For warping you in the past and for future warping. To apologize for doing wrong when I could have done right.