Valentine's Day: An Apologia

This one goes out to the one I… Who am I kidding? The ones I've pushed away? Ignored, or simply just forgotten? I'm not trying to be tragic or anything like that. You see, I'm just an ass-hole. Garden variety, a dime a dozen, a person too cowardly to do what's right. But here I am with an opportunity to try to make up for all of that. This honesty thing is sort of new to me, I could relapse at any time so I have to get all of this said while something that resembles the truth is still with me.

It was a year ago, a day like any other, except there was a little heart shaped sticker on my calendar. Didn't mean anything. Classes came and went. Night fell and I hopped a bluebird, business as usual. I folded my arms and put on my hard-edged don't mess with me face. Almost done, back to the hell that I call home. All I had to do was to stare out the window for a while and it would all be over. The noise of the other passengers filled my head, languages I couldn't understand, laughing and shouting. Didn't mean anything. The din forced my thoughts inwards and was only vaguely aware that someone had sat down next to me. I just kept staring out that window. At my face in reflection, superimposed over the hulking buildings of UB, one by one, they came and went.

Words. Someone had been talking to me. I tried to figure out where I was and what was going on - was I that far away? This girl was sitting next to me, pretty and dressed up, the cool but expendable type of clothing that you wear when you think that somebody at the party will probably puke on you. I couldn't understand a word she was saying. Her speech was rushed, a little nervous - hell, she was talking to a total stranger. Unless your new at this school, you know that doing something like that is against the law. But she did it any way. A rebel. She said that she had seen me around Ellicott before and a lot of other stuff that probably wouldn't make sense on paper but is more than good enough in the real world. Some people say that I look like this guy Remy from a movie called Higher Learning, others swear I'm a dead ringer for Shaggy from Scoobie-do. But to her I looked like Perry Farrell of Jane's Addiction, yeah that might not mean much to you, but she was a fan. We exchanged names and pleasantries, the bus stopped, and I was gone.

I saw her around sometimes, now that I knew where to find her. I would say "Hey, how's it been?" and take off back to my friends or back to myself. Each time telling her "I'll see you later - We'll talk then." Again and again, I kept saying words I didn't mean. Saying them to a person who took a chance on me. I haven't seen her this year, I don't know if she's still out there, but I hope she is. It's easy to mean these words on paper but I really am trying to tell the truth this time. Jen, I wish we did talk. I wish we were friends. I'm sorry, for who I was and maybe the way I still am. I'm sorry.

She's not the only one that I owe. My first best friend, she meant so much to me - it's a shame I can't remember her name. But of her I remember something. Others are blurred faces, the weight of their hands, or just a few crystal words now shattered. I'm sorry that I lost all of you. For the bad things that I did. And for sometimes doing nothing at all. Chances are that I owe an apology to you too. So, just in case we never meet again: I'm sorry.

For Generation, this is

Richard Leader