An Apology?

Day 11 - Use these words in a story: grandfather, photo album, post office, and folder

is this an apology?
you can call it that
an apology for me being me

pop–popping of bubble wrap, strewn papers and folders,
labels on cardboard boxes: fragile
one word, that’s all it took to label my life
fragile: never sure if I’d wake up on the same bed
(or even the same city)
i was scared to call any place my home;
storing photo albums in cardboard boxes,
devouring moments from plastic plates

this constant change, constant shifting, constant instability
helped me in a way
I adapted quickly to new faces, new uniforms and new beds
new postal codes and new post offices
but I never gave others a chance to adjust to me;
a couple steps away from each other one day
a couple thousand miles the other

I started reading people like they were Enid Blytons or Conan Doyles
and as you read these lines, they have already read and conquered you
but I forgot to be a Blyton myself
why let others in if you know they will leave
I shut myself off and I liked it that way
It hurts less, you know
yes it gets lonely here, but it sure is painless

home had always been a person: my grandfather
then I moved here; I moved home.

I met the biggest, friendliest and most open bunch of friends
one by one, slowly yet steadily, I pared you from my life
because I wasn’t ready
I never will be

yes, this is an apology
one for always taking and never giving
and for the selfish acts hiding behind a veil of selflessness
for acting like distance is why we aren’t close anymore
and for hurting you inadvertently (because I would never do it on purpose)

and I apologise
for not being a good friend;
not because I don’t want to
but because I know not how to.

One thought on “An Apology?

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