"A few months into the pandemic, I decided to go through my box of archives since I was back at my parents' house. I flipped through old letters, photos, and journals. Over the years, I've developed this irrational fear of misremembering. Like I need physical proof that something happened, good or bad — especially bad. Sometimes I feel like I can't trust my memories. I need an objective narrator to tell me what happened. Our memories are just stories we tell ourselves."

"What if the story we've been telling ourselves is wrong? What if there was a third, fourth, or fifth perspective we didn't see? What if we saw ourselves only as a victim, unable to see the harm we were simultaneously causing?"

"Who was that apology you wrote really for? Are apologies ever completely selfless?"