I can’t overlook the way some people bruise you and then return with some kind of manipulative softness, pretending as if kindness alone can erase the shape of the wound.
They do something wrong and they’re very much conscious of it and are also conscious you’re still hurting over it but instead of naming the problem, instead of standing still long enough to apologize, they arrive smiling.
Next thing you know, lighter voices, small favors, borrowed warmth are being shoved in your face, when you don’t buy it, they gawk at you, hoping their politeness will rewrite the moment.
But niceness without accountability is obviously just manipulation in a gentler coat. I can’t overlook the silence where an apology should live and will never. The careful avoidance of the truth, the refusal to sit with discomfort or the absurd belief that time and charm can do the work that honesty refuses to do.
If we don’t talk about what hurts, it doesn’t disappear. In my case, it waits and just settles in the space between us, present and asking to be acknowledged.
So no, I won’t be softened into forgetting. Nor will I be coaxed into peace that is built on denial. Because care is not being nice afterward, it is owning the harm and saying openly I was wrong and meaning it.
And that, if not done correctly, is something I can’t overlook.
My response to the freewriters dailyprompt