Wishful Thinking
It all began the day he decided to leave. He decided to go, leave his home and all the people in it behind, leave the place that made him feel stuck since he knew he could never find what he was looking for here. Memories which reminded him of his loss fogged his mind whenever he turned around a corner. A village full of people who moved on, making it harder for him not to take the blame. They moved on while he was the one responsible for not being able to protect the ones he loved, for not being able to see that one cannot even trust one's own family, for being too weak to take the blame so he kept blaming everyone around him, even those who made him forget for a little while until the loss crept its way into his brain and heart again, making it almost unbearable to breathe.
It was not the ones who made him forget, to them he was grateful because - even though it did not seem possible at first - they helped him recover and showed him a life he could lead as long as he tried to forgive. Forgive his family, his brother, forgive the village and the people in it, but most of all he had to forgive himself. And when he realized that he could lead a life without grief and turmoil but therefore needed to let go he locked himself away again. And then he let the pain into his life again, putting the blame on everybody, especially his best friend and turned him into his biggest rival.
Regret was what kept him company, regret was what talked to him in his sleep, regret was what kept him from forgiving, what made up for all that he lacked and regret was what made him leave.
The day he left he was asked to stay by someone dear to him. And he probably would have taken her up on that offer if he had not have to get rid of his regret first. He had to deal with this before he could start what he was really longing for. That day he thanked her for her offer, thanked her for her love and patience, for her trust and companionship and for the moments they made him forget. And in that simple thank you he put all his honesty, all the truth about how grateful he was even though he knew he could not accept just yet. Maybe it did not reach her, maybe she did not hear what he was so desperate to say, and maybe she could not understand that regret wins over desire but maybe she did not need to. That day he left everything he had behind and began looking for things he thought he needed the most. He thought he needed to set priorities since he was not that kind of person who would give up easily. He needed to find closure, answers, and truth. He was looking for revenge, strength and maybe even a reason. And by doing so he fell deeper and deeper into the dark and after finding answers he reached out to find new questions to ask. He was a hopeless wanderer indeed.
And now as he lays on the ground, beside him his best friend, both covered in blood, both missing one arm, he thinks about everything he spent his life searching for and sees how little his desire to get rid of his regret truly was. After finally reaching the goals he set the day he left he realizes he could probably finally accept her offer to stay. Since, maybe what he was looking for was not as much of a priority as he thought it was. Maybe, just maybe, he was really looking and longing for something he did not think he deserved until now. Maybe all he was ever looking for was a second chance. A second chance for him to live at ease.
And as he lays there thinking about all the pain he has caused, thinking about the words which have been unspoken between them he finally reaches a place of honesty and truth again. And as he lays there he blurts out the words he did not know he needed to say the most.
"I'm sorry."