The Weight Of Excuses

Strict parents taught her how to survive, To navigate life with lies she loathed to tell. She crafted a list, excuses for every misstep, Because the truth felt like a risk she couldn’t take. Sometimes, she wielded honesty— A rare, deliberate shield against blame. But since leaving home, she’s forgotten that art. Her list, once a lifeline, now defends others’ absences. “They must’ve had no choice,” she tells herself, When someone she cherishes disappears without a word. “They wanted to be there,” she assures, When her first party in years Ends with empty chairs where her friends should have been. Excuses grow, stacking like pages in a book, A fragile armor against the sting of abandonment. Now, after daring to trust her heart, She flips through her library of “what-ifs” and “maybes,” Desperate to find an answer that fits her narrative. A reason that soothes without truth, That comforts without cutting deep. The dusty pages offer no solace, Only reflections of things that could have been. Still, she clings to the search, Afraid of what she might uncover If she dares to stop looking.