Few years back, I was at my lowest. My will to live dissipated to the night as my own self was snatched from me, without warning, without consent. I reminisce that point of my life time and time because it’s already set a standard – been there, done that, never going there again.
For the longest time since, I used the word “sorry” excessively. I’d knock on a table and instinctively offer my apologies as if by coming in contact with my contaminated self I somehow offended the inanimate object. It was pointed out to me that I was perhaps apologising for my existence, as I had grown to see no purpose in it.
The thing about being at the lowest point is, you can only go up from there. Granted, the uphill ride wasn’t smooth. But here I am. So, excuse me if I respond to your casual insults by complementing myself, excuse me for no longer hiding behind the comfort of silence, excuse me while I unapologetically walk away from anyone that’s toxic, excuse me if your opinions on my life are wasted on me, excuse me for loving out loud, excuse me for celebrating the every single day like it could be my last, excuse me for romanticising the little things in life.
Life isn’t done with testing me time and time again, but I’m here, I’m happy. I’ve learned that the hardest thing to do is to continue to feel when faced with beautiful moments that last for a day and tough times that are equally impermanent. Excuse me for no longer being sorry for someone else’s sins.


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