Vol 8: The Apology
Pain begets pain. An action, unknown, not thought out, creates hurt. Sometimes that emotional injury is too hard to bear, too difficult to reach out and start a dialogue. This city doesn't forgive. Neither do its citizens. The hope of absolution is lost in the abyss of anger and hatred.
How does one even begin to apologize when the hurt they caused is too deep for words? When they know that the city doesn't believe in forgiveness? Bullets and knives are harder, and yet easier to overlook than the pain a friend causes when they betray a heart, especially when the hurt was so deliberate, striking at the very core of the individual. The only way to truly hurt someone is through love. And loved ones know that weakness all too well, even as they suffer the same through that piercing wound.
On the other side, it's tiring. To always feel so sad. To feel so lost. Tears cannot be shed anymore. They are locked behind an emptiness that cannot be expressed verbally. Knowing that the harm caused is immeasurable, irreparable, and that so much has been lost due to whatever goes through the mind in a hazy moment. Time has been lost, nothing makes sense. Drifting, aimless, and trying to reach out a hand, with the keen self-awareness that no one will grasp it back. Instead one gets platitudes, promises, but they are as blank as the expressions that stare back.
In the end, all that matters is the relationship. The foundation that was built. One has to ask if the base is strong enough to bear the storm, or if the weight of the water will cause it to collapse. There was hurt. There was pain. It wasn't right, nor acceptable. Even though the intentions were unknown, lost behind the fog of memory and alcohol, that doesn't matter, doesn't factor in. What matters is the torment inside and how one can ease that pain. If the way still exists.
Maybe not. Maybe there is no hope. Los Santos seems to suck that hope out of all.
An olive branch, a story. The only way to express one's feelings in a way that can make sense, that isn't a rambling spoken conversation that pins blame or escapes judgement. It was wrong. It showed no love or trust, but unconscious spite, a poor joke, or a bait for an enemy. Reasons will always remain unclear. But do reasons matter when the pain is so strong? The pain that should never have existed and only serves as a betrayal to all the good times.
Nothing can ever turn back time. All that can be done is to make a decision. Are the paths forever separated by this action? Or can they begin the long path to intersecting again? Only an apology can begin the path. Though stated before and sincerely, it was too early. Time needed, time given. But now, the choice should be known in the heart. Do the journeys diverge or do they meet?