19th September 2016
I say sorry a lot, and most of the time for no
reason. Like, at all. I say it if I bump into someone, even though a “pardon
me” would have sufficed. I’ll say it to a waitress when I’m counting coins to
pay for a coffee, even though that’s what I’m supposed to do when I order
coffee. I apologised for crying at my uncle’s funeral, even though funerals are
actually, quite literally, crying parties. And I used to say sorry to other
drivers when they’d cut me off, even though 1. They should have said sorry to
me, and 2. They couldn’t hear me anyway. (For the record, I just flick them the
bird now. What is road-rage?) And I’m pretty sure that I’ve apologised for
breathing at some point. Actually, that was today. I apologised for breathing
today.
Are some of you nodding along to this? Are some of
you thinking, “mm hmm, I apologise for
existing”? Right. So why do we do
it? At what point in our lives were we told to say sorry for being alive? And
if we’re ever told to say sorry for being alive, shouldn’t our mums and dads be
held accountable? They were, after all, the
hanky-panky-let’s-bring-a-child-into-the-world culprits.
Ew. I’m sorry for bringing up your conception.
Moving right along, I don’t remember getting that
“sorry for being alive” lesson. I’m pretty sure I’ve just picked up on it
because I’ve convinced myself that my existence isn’t what other people want it
to be; even if they don’t want me to be anything in particular at all. And if
somebody does want me to be something in particular, then why am I not flicking
the bird in his or her judgmental face?
Since none of you are here with me, in my bedroom,
and capable of immediately interacting with my questions; and since my cat
cannot do so either due to the fact that she doesn’t speak human (and I don’t
speak feline): I’m going to have to take a stab at them myself. Bear with me.
Basically, I’m addicted to feeling validated by
other people and the only way I can feel validated is if I conform to whatever
standards other people have. Since I have no possible way of knowing for
certain what standards these “other people” have, and whether or not I am
surpassing or failing them; I am left with no other choice but to assume that
everything I do is wrong and then apologise for my supposed wrongdoings and
just hope that whoever I’m in contact with realizes that I just want a friend
because I’m a human being and crave human interaction because, right now, my
cat is my best friend.
And honestly, I would probably never give the rude
finger to anybody (except for close friends who know I’m doing it ironically and bad drivers)
because 1. I am very, very passive, and 2. I would worry about his or her
feelings. I mean, deep down, we’re all just as insecure as each other. Aren’t
we? I’m sure even the really individual hipsters of the world long for some form
of affirmation.
In conclusion: I’m sorry. And thank you for
reading. Bye.