Sorry Is Doing Too Much
What is that sorry doing — always falling so easily off my tongue? If my apologies were thread, I could crochet a blanket big enough to cover the world. Sorry grows like a chartreuse weed in my verbal garden — stealthily stealing sunlight and water from more appropriate words — what I wanted to say (what I should have said) instead.
What is that sorry doing? Rushing into a situation that did not call for it. What am I apologizing for — no, really? For existing? For taking up space? For having an opinion? For not being perfect?
What is that sorry doing? Trying to buy favor. If all my words were coins, sorry would be a dull, flat penny — worn featureless from being handled so much. Sorry is my beast of burden — the donkey I ask to carry everything, and yet I am not unburdened.
What is that sorry doing? Do I really believe all my apologies are warranted? Don’t I render them worthless — or at least significantly less valuable by flooding the market with them?
What is that sorry doing? Trying to seduce me. Trying to convince me I need it more than I do. How do I resist this siren’s call?
What is that sorry doing? Too much, probably. I should let it have a vacation — send it first-class to Paris. Teach it how to say excusez-moi.
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