Acts I

Why do I sometimes feel like all apologies are selfish acts?

I woke up from a dream this morning, long before dawn. I often dream about the same person, one I cared about very much but treated badly. When I used to dream about them, it was welcome. It made me feel vulnerable and somehow exposed, but I told myself it was like visiting when we lived in different cities. But now I wake up so full of regret. A couple of weeks ago the dream was confrontational. Last night it was friendly and sweet and perfect. I was awake after that until it was time to get up, replaying it and willing myself to go back to sleep, and wondering if there’s any way to fix things.

Fixing things is such a selfish impulse. In my mind, I created a hideous break, hurt someone deeply, need to rectify things. Meanwhile I’m sure everything has been forgotten, swept over, and my compulsion to make contact, do something, would only dredge up events that he is happy to have left in the past. It’s all ego.

Yet I’m sure I will do something. And the worst is that I’ve done this all before. I could see that they’d begun to care for me, knew I did too but didn’t know how to react, how to behave, what to do and how not to be selfish and shallow. So I willfully spoiled it. The first time I realized what I’d lost, regretted it terribly, and fixed it to a very nice state. But then it happened again and now I’m sure it’s too late for apologies and regret. I’m sure they no longer care, they have other things now. I’ve been forgotten and my ego can’t take it.

Sometimes I think I ruin things on purpose in order to give myself opportunities to wallow in that sickeningly sweet haze of regret and melancholy.