Forgive Me Miss, For I Have Sinned

I have a very weak memory, one that keeps placing a shadow on my life's timeline, which means that I don't remember much of my own accord, unless poked to do so. It's often a blessing in disguise for I don't have to recall and cringe at all the embarrassing episodes which dwarf my life. Sometimes, this predicament makes me feel left out too, such as when well-meaning colleagues and siblings rapturously share their adventurous school-and-college tales while I can only listen in wonder and amazement, forgetting the treasure trove of joyful times I have had myself. However, there has always been this one memory that has never ever faded away from my remembrance, although I have most certainly wished for it to be eviscerated eternally. This memory perennially haunts me like the spectre of communism was described by Marx to haunt all of Europe. The scene enacts itself to a rousing reception in the theatre that is my mind and villainizes my imperfections; the words spoken spring alive and pinch my heart to strain it of all merriment in a snap. The perception of the hurt my actions occasioned bears a burden heavier that what my shoulders can lift or carry, drowning me in in a sombre river of guilt. I have only now come to acknowledge that this memory is a ghost whose thirst I must quench by confessing for my sins, so to say; and for that end and purpose, I write this an an obituary of my mistakes. I hope that by ascribing a fitting description to the events that transpired, I can set in stone the fallacies I committed and begin to atone for them bit-by-bit. I wish I could have addressed this directly in a letter (or text, for the sake of modernity) to you, but for me to disturb your tranquil now would be a grave trespass upon your peace of mind. Nevertheless, I really hope against all odds that, by some mischievous play of fortune, your eyes do come across this epistle.

We had been in the same school and in the same classroom for five-and-a-half years, although we hardly ever had any meaningful conversation in this time as far as my memory tells. That is my fault in all essence for I never took the initiative to do so, and instead acted aloof from everyone, expecting that the world would come to me. Yet, I believe we were still on nice terms, having been classmates for so long - seeing each other every day for so many years. Then the final school term ended and our class disbanded. Although everyone changed schools, a bunch of us still ended up together, albeit segregated into different classrooms. We ought to have come closer in the circumstances, being horses of the same stable suddenly thrust into a different countryside altogether. We didn't, however, thanks once again to my "nature", for whatever that's worth. It was at this juncture, and in this context, when the event that forms the crux of this memory plaguing my veins, took course. It was a mutual friend's birthday and you had made a few grand plans for it. In a move emblematic of the embodiment of love, generosity and selflessness that you are, you even thought it fit to ask me to participate in a small activity to ring in the birthday festivities. It is only in retrospect that I can understand how much thought you must have put in to give me that opportunity to participate, all in the beneficial interest of our mutual friend. [Aside: I am, by no means, worthy of giving any applause to you; but if you will allow me, I have to say that this is the sort of person who I now aspire to become.] It was an activity which involved minimal expenditure of efforts from my side too - all I had to do was pick up my phone and make a short video wishing happy birthday!

Sidestepping all the effort you had put in for the birthday, not just in planning out the celebrations but also in reaching out to include someone like me therein, I bluntly refused to be of any help. I acted rudely and displayed my high-handedness by showing that I was above such shenanigans, when in fact I ought to have jumped at the opportunity and even volunteered to pitch in and assist you in executing your grand designs. We had a definitive falling out then and there, deciding not to be on speaking terms thereafter. As I write this, it pains me to know that I remember this in such excruciating detail - the impact which you, and this incident in particular, have had on me is profound. There has been an ocean of separation between us ever since, an ocean that I have now grown to despise. You extended a branch to me and I kicked it away with a malicious vengeance. I understand how my behaviour wrecked it all up, and with the passage of time, my guilt has only evolved in form and size into the spectre that now haunts me day and night. The blazing oven of time has baked this memory into a burnt cake, one that leaves a lasting bitter aftertaste with every bite and makes me want to grind my tongue to dust. Oh, what I would not do now to run speedboats and build bridges across this ocean, even if it takes a lifetime to achieve! That, of course, is only if you will want me to. My thoughts at this moment comprise only of numerous "what-could-have-been's", in all of which the grass is far greener than what it actually is without you.

This is the tragedy of my teenage years that now causes me to cry and repent; forgive me miss, for I have sinned.

[June, 2024 - Because somehow, this memory is at its strongest during this month!]