When an incident jeopardizes a relationship, the one that is associated with the cause of the incident, first goes into denial. Not about the things that happened, nor about the result the incident produces. One somehow has a firm belief that the incident is not entirely their fault; they really did not want it to happen and it happened purely out of misjudgment; carelessness. Ultimately, what they want to believe is that, it is not all that bad; that whatever they have knocked over can somehow be picked up again, be repaired. As guilt chews on their conscience, they decide to purge, to get it out; to tell the partner what happened and how insanely sorry one is, believing that their partner can somehow reason with them, and tell them to just not do it again.

It hurts, a lot, but please let’s get up.

Even though one subconsciously knows the one on the receiving end of something they had never choose to participate in–or think to participate in–would tell them, you have just mindfucked me, thank-fucking-you. Lies, lies, lies.

You. All you can think of is how you understand why it happened, and how you were caught up in the flow of it all, and let it happened without really wanting those terrible, terrible paralyzing events to actually happen. You hope the other person can catch on–you really do–but accountability forever sides on the action done regardless of words and intention.

What if the tables are turned?

You hit a blank. If it is for the same reasons that shit falls, to believe that it was truly, unquestionably a mistake, an error in judgment, maybe you can find the heart to forgive.

What one fails to take into account is the imagination and empathy for the plight of the real victim. To see that all the other person can see is the damage that has been done. That they have no space to fit any kind of hindsight whatsoever in their turbulent mind, the mind that mainly sees what had actually happened, and how that defeats the purpose of everything which meaning is the complete opposite of the disaster. What they see is that no matter what you say in your defense, you are basically the cause; the catalyst lies within you and only you.

Because of what you did. You somehow made that choice. Shit happened. Period.

Distracted by waves and waves of guilt, you are frantic to just calm things down; damage control. You pay little attention to what they are really saying. You want to get rid of those furious, vindictive words. You want to believe that, as long as you are sincere, everything will be okay, no matter what. Because really, you just won’t ever, ever, do it again.

What if he told me the exact same thing I told him?

Imagination is a killer. To really put the other person in your shoes while you wear theirs. To hear the very same words you uttered and to feel the exact same injustice the same scenario would have imposed onto you. To cut out the thoughts of the narrator, the author, and have merely the knowledge of the listener, the audience, the reader about the content; the facts that happened. No speculations, no opinions wanted.

This is when it hits you that it does not matter why it happened anymore. The point is that so long you had a say in the situation, you let, made, allowed it to happen. And you really knew better, somehow. It is not a question of should. Nobody was there to tell you what or what not to do before it happened but the mere fact that you even had an inkling of what could have been the consequences is enough to warrant your responsibility in preventing the chaos that had ensued.

Is the responsibility entirely mine?

It is when what you do destroy the faith and trust of the other.

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There is nothing quite as devastating as the stark realization that your ignorance is the cause of your misery all this while.

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Let me mend the wound I’ve made. Please.