50 No Apology Required
Through everything, the lies, the betrayal, the alienation, the perverse pleasure they took in cruelty, defied logic. It left exhaustion, heartbreak, and disbelief in its wake. The damage, to me, was undeniable.
Yet what I lived felt built on hollow schemes, empty promises, and a desperate need to control a story that could not hold.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Ah yes, the classic non-apology. Utterly empty. It sounds like empathy, but it isn’t. It is the act of placing the blame on the person who hurts while the one who caused the pain hides.
“I was only joking.”
A timeless favorite. It means they got caught. It means they wanted the satisfaction of cruelty with the plausible deniability of humor.
“You always twist my words.”
Translation, you remembered too accurately.
“That never happened.”
This one requires true commitment. The kind of mental gymnastics only Olympic-level denial can achieve.
“You made me do it.”
Because nothing says maturity like outsourcing your conscience.
“You’re overreacting.”
Which really means, how dare you respond like a human being while I behave like a hurricane.
“You’re crazy.”
When all else fails, assassinate credibility. After all, it is easier to question your sanity than confront their behavior.
Together, they form a choreography of evasion so predictable it could be scored to music. If you have lived it, you know every step by heart.
I thought decency could bridge delusion. But reason is useless when someone’s entire identity depends on never being wrong.
In those moments, the rewrite felt almost pathetic to me.
That is when the story gets rewritten again.
You did not leave for peace. You abandoned them.
You did not set boundaries. You became cruel.
You did not find clarity. You changed.
Of course there was change. There had to be. Growth looks like betrayal to those who depend on your confusion.
Let them.
In time, those who rely on a self protective story will eventually trip over it.
They will call it arrogance. They will call it distance. What it really is, is peace earned the hard way.
And the storytellers, left without their villain, have no one left to play against but each other.
Some say I lost. I disagree. You can’t lose a dirty game you refused to participate in.
Disclaimer
This piece is a creative reflection on emotional manipulation, blame shifting, and the absurdity of false narratives. It blends experiences and observations, written from a place of healing and reflection, not accusation. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.