My First Load of Baggage

The baggage we carry isn’t always folded nice and neat into a carryon suitcase. In fact, most days we struggle to keep it all together. There constantly something falling out, dragging behind us, or worse it pops the zipper at the worst possible. Usually it happens when there is a crowd of people and you’re supposed to be professional, but then something inside, that most likely hates you, says, “Nah.”

Well that’s what happens to me constantly, and I don’t have the fast reflexes to stop my mouth from saying the stupid shit that my brain comes up with. Call it a curse or whatever, all I know is that it constantly gets me into trouble. I don’t know how many times I’ve said something and then immediately felt like taking it back. Only I don’t, because that’s a sign of weakness. Momma didn’t raise no weak ass bitch. So I keep it to myself and forget to apologize later.

Do you remember that dating game where the suitor had a chance to learn about all the baggage their potential significant other came with? They literally had to lay everything about themselves out for this guy, who definitely had his own baggage, to assess and determine if this girl was going to be worthy of his time. Every time I think about emotional baggage, I think of this game. How honest and raw these women were towards a man they never met, and were just expected to take a leap of faith. Maybe, I’m over-romanticizing the whole game show, but you get the idea.

There is a quote that states that one of the genetic human needs is to love and belong. Only sometimes we’re afraid of both things, because in order to do so we must give up a piece of who we are and hope that someone accepts us. Which is why when you find someone who truly gets you, it’s very difficult to let them go. Trust me, I’ve been friends with the same people since I met them. They understand my character, my accents, my mistakes, my desires, etc. Basically they’re godsends and without them, I would most likely find myself as a meek feeble shadow of a person. Instead, I use the confidence they give me to throw myself into the universe, even if it means I’m going to be spit back out.

I would like to say that my baggage is contained into a backpack hidden in a closet somewhere. However, it’s not true. I just swap out a different piece and carry it around with me. Today, I’m holding onto apologies. What I mean, is not apologizing to people who I wronged in the past couple of days. I hate saying I’m sorry. It’s a major character flaw, I know, but I won’t do it. You can ask me a million times and I still won’t say I’m sorry. I’d rather find some round about way of apologizing or gloss over the issue entirely.

Besides sometimes what I’m apologizing for happens to be caused by the me that only comes out after a couple of drinks or when tired, usually both. There is no way it’s not going to sound crazy if I say, “Hey I’m sorry for drunk/tired me. She doesn’t know what she says. Frankly that bitch has a mind of her own.”

Read that apology. Then read it out loud. Doesn’t it sound like some crazy shit a person with multiple personalities would say. (I don’t mean to offend anyone. If you would like to enlighten me more about this issue, I’d be happy to sit and listen.) This is why I never apologize. I can’t do it, and frankly, you can’t make me.