Regret and Pride goes hand-in-hand.

Do you know Pride? It’s that little teeny thing that we all have ingrained into our psyche. It becomes our best friend over time, but once in awhile, when you’re not looking; it nips you around in the ass and kicks you down the drain. It overwhelms you and all you can think of is Pride; everything else fades into oblivion.

In a moment spurred on by irrationality and a cocktail of lost inhibitions, I blurted out what I shouldn’t have. Something about an apology triggered a landslide of emotions that should’ve been kept dammed inside. How tiny and insignificant and trivial…yet I lost it. I lost it because for once, I didn’t want to hear you apologize anymore. There wasn’t any need to because you didn’t do anything wrong yet you felt compelled to. I lost it because I didn’t know what you were apologizing for. I lost it because what I wanted to hear was not ‘Sorry’. Sometimes, sorry doesn’t work.

And of course, I wrote everything that came into mind. Every damned thing. Every damned thing that made it’s way first into my mind. Every damned thought that was clamouring to be heard. But it was all under the influence. To a certain degree, it shouldn’t have meant anything…but reviewing it now, I think a bit of it does, although I can’t remember what I’ve wrote. All I remember is pissedannoyedirritated or something to that degree.

I woke up the next morning feeling lousy, and totally regretting what I did. As the wave of irrationality passed, reason took over. And I knew I fucked up. See, it’s not just you. I wanted to take back everything I’d said, pretend nothing had happened, wished the mail had gotten lost, hoped that you didn’t read it. I knew what I did was about the stupidest thing ever, it was the first time my heart took over and it led to this mess.

I wanted to tell you sorry, sorry for sounding harsh, sorry for being such a pain. But I couldn’t. Although eventually, I would.

See? There’s pride. And your reply to my bout of insanity dented my pride. And I would’ve readily admitted my mistake if I had not felt that my pride had taken a bashing. Even if you say that I’ve misunderstood you or whatever, I still stand fast that my pride is dented.

My pride says I cannot take back my words. And so it still stands that way…indefinitely. But please know that I’m not angry at you. Not truly angry. Not pissed. I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you, see?

That’s the crux of the whole mess.