Hey man, I'm sorry...
It takes a lot for me to admit that I am wrong (because most of the time, I am not). This is one of the rare times that I will. Although in most circumstances, my acquired social impairment provides an easy escape for accusations of premeditation and accountability, now is different, now is the time to say I'm sorry
I am profoundly affected by the fact that I ruined one of the most important events of this person's life. Good intentions don't even matter, and they never have in any given situation. Results are always of paramount importance. My apologies may seem superficial compared to the intense loss that I feel, that my friend must have felt. You see, in this world of socially-controlled reactions and thought-out "appropriate" asides, we have to think beyond what we see, and reason from assumptions. Exemplified of course by my friend's raw responses and wry smiles. But I know him, one of my best friends, someone in whom I confide my darkest truths (despite his and my other friend's vocal and non-vocal disbelief - which secretly hurts me a lot) and my most malignant lies. My judgment therefore has verifiable merit despite all the denial and negation, and I have to look beyond statements like "Okay lang" or "Don't worry", or beyond the palpable silence at the drinking table.
Of course, I reasoned that something worse has happened to me, although not aesthetically but contextually. But the more I reason down this path, the more I find myself in the trap of consensual enabling: I had control of the situation, I had the power to influence the circumstances... but my attempts to improve them have failed. And even if it can be reasoned that things are rectifiable, this thing is irreversible, un-repeatable. Never mind that my resources were scarce and that time was of the essence and that I was stripped of logistical empowerment. Had I been in his situation, I would have been recalcitrant at according forgiveness.
So, to my friend, I'm sorry. I am deeply and truly sorry. I would give anything (and anyone) to change what happened.
They say that history repeats itself. I say fuck to that and to fatalism. WE repeat history and it is our fault, our fault alone.
I really hope that we can look back at this and laugh at what happened. But in the meantime, this holiday season will be marked with more pondering and reflection. Question is, what have I discovered in the process? How many people of significance have I hurt before? How many more have I coerced into doing things they didn't want to do? How many people's lives have I ruined?
Sometimes, despite my apparent expertise on biopsychosocial pathologies, I can be one of the most gago persons in the world.
Tonight's instruments of Regret? Pulse and Tingle.
I am profoundly affected by the fact that I ruined one of the most important events of this person's life. Good intentions don't even matter, and they never have in any given situation. Results are always of paramount importance. My apologies may seem superficial compared to the intense loss that I feel, that my friend must have felt. You see, in this world of socially-controlled reactions and thought-out "appropriate" asides, we have to think beyond what we see, and reason from assumptions. Exemplified of course by my friend's raw responses and wry smiles. But I know him, one of my best friends, someone in whom I confide my darkest truths (despite his and my other friend's vocal and non-vocal disbelief - which secretly hurts me a lot) and my most malignant lies. My judgment therefore has verifiable merit despite all the denial and negation, and I have to look beyond statements like "Okay lang" or "Don't worry", or beyond the palpable silence at the drinking table.
Of course, I reasoned that something worse has happened to me, although not aesthetically but contextually. But the more I reason down this path, the more I find myself in the trap of consensual enabling: I had control of the situation, I had the power to influence the circumstances... but my attempts to improve them have failed. And even if it can be reasoned that things are rectifiable, this thing is irreversible, un-repeatable. Never mind that my resources were scarce and that time was of the essence and that I was stripped of logistical empowerment. Had I been in his situation, I would have been recalcitrant at according forgiveness.
So, to my friend, I'm sorry. I am deeply and truly sorry. I would give anything (and anyone) to change what happened.
They say that history repeats itself. I say fuck to that and to fatalism. WE repeat history and it is our fault, our fault alone.
I really hope that we can look back at this and laugh at what happened. But in the meantime, this holiday season will be marked with more pondering and reflection. Question is, what have I discovered in the process? How many people of significance have I hurt before? How many more have I coerced into doing things they didn't want to do? How many people's lives have I ruined?
Sometimes, despite my apparent expertise on biopsychosocial pathologies, I can be one of the most gago persons in the world.
Tonight's instruments of Regret? Pulse and Tingle.