Chop Chop

He said sorry. But he didn’t really mean it. Nope, not one bit.

He had tried to make it work, even though he knew the two of them would be here again sooner or later. It was never meant to be. This however, was.

He wasn’t completely blaming her, of course. It was, after all, he who had decided to try to give it another shot. He had been selfish too. So in a way, he was sorry. He was sorry he had bothered trying. He wasn’t sorry about the way it ended.

He had tried to build it up when he knew it would all come crashing down again. He tried filling the seemingly endless gaps, but he knew he would never be able to bridge it completely. He knew that no matter how hard he tried to stand up, he would stumble and fall again.

In some weird way, he thought, he actually wanted to do this. He wanted to fall down to the ground and get hurt. He wanted his world to come to an end.

Why? Because that’s what he was trained. It’s all he knew. Taking the blame. Breaking the fall.  Being the piece of wood that wedged itself tight in the space between the door and the floor, leaving it open just wide enough for someone else pass through. That’s what he was taught to do – Be the stopper.

So when he finally did manage to bring himself to stopper the unnecessary flow of emotion, he wasn’t sorry about it.

On the contrary, he was glad. He was glad he was now free. That he could take the blame, and yet, somehow, manage to find redemption in the same unchanging fact – he had sacrificed himself, his own feelings and freedom, for the greater good of the world, and himself.

He didn’t know what exactly to call this – Salvation? Hope? Reincarnation? Whatever it is, he knew it felt good. And he had absolutely no need to feel guilty about it. No one in the whole world could take this feeling away from him. He had torn someone else apart. But he was whole. He was complete.


And that’s how he managed to chop the onions that morning.