I’ve never ceased to be amazed at our society’s mentality that just a few words, or even a few phrases can shadow any wrongdoings. We are obsessed with cliché phrases that we believe can resolve issues without conflict. Somebody goes out of his or her way to hold a door open, and we respond with a monotonous “thank you.” We see friends on our way to class and walk away with a muffled “have a good one.” If you ask me it’s all completely meaningless. If you’re really thankful for that open door, hold one open for someone else. If you really want me to have a good one, ask me later how my day was. Except that we really couldn’t care less.

My biggest pet peeve: apologies. I believe apologies are simultaneously the strongest manifestations of remorse and the weakest in genuineness. I mean, are you really sorry that you knocked my coffee over making me look like the world’s oldest bed wetter or are you just trying to get on with your day? I’m taking a stand against the traditional, verbal apology and progressing toward a modern, somewhat invisible apology process. But first, why do apologies even matter?

Our pasts are like landfills, accumulating and piling up what we consider insignificant or aged. The more we attempt to resurrect the past, the more regrets we have and faults we find — we become disappointed. And out of disappointment’s ashes rises hope — a hope that we can reconcile our pasts and extinguish our “could haves” and “should haves.” Experiences, whether in the past, present or future, are unique and unrepeatable in terms of context and emotions. If we condemn ourselves to fixate on what has already happened, there is no room for progress in a future that may very well hold something better for us.

What we do in the past, we reflect on in the present with hopes that it will change our futures. We dwell on the past, live in the now and strive for tomorrow.

Apologies disrupt our pasts but with good intentions. They dig into our landfills and find the experiences that are keeping us from concentrating fully on the present. Apologies don’t just acknowledge our own wrongdoings, but they acknowledge our sense of empathy. They portray our selfishness in wanting to mend what ends up giving us guilt and remorse. But they also portray our empathy in wanting others to feel the same degree of closure.

It’s forgiveness that gives us freedom from grudges, revenge and antagonism. It’s forgiveness that proves we don’t need to meddle in our past to be content in the future. It’s forgiveness that breaks chains holding us back and gives wings to move forward.

With that, how can we do it right? The message is simple: Show, don’t tell. My best friend Tyler is as big of an expert on this as Gretchen Wiener’s dad is on toaster strudel. He emphasizes that a true apology is one shown through actions, not just words. That nobody is truly sorry until they prove they’re sorry. We can apologize repetitively for the same thing, but we can only truly show we’re sorry once. To him, “I’m sorry” is just a premature recognition of wrong. It’s the subsequent actions that will prove whether someone truly does recognize their faults. Don’t just say you’re sorry, act it.

The problem? We’re too impatient. We normalize instant gratification. People want apologies before they agree to talk and they want it now. They want to smell the lingering stench of remorse coming from the tip of your tongue. They want to make you feel vulnerable before they allow themselves to be vulnerable to make amends.

When people give me the opportunity to exclaim my sorrow, I’ll just shake my head and probably take a few steps before my signature hair flip. Nowadays, humanity is obsessed with the fastest, most efficient means of accomplishing everything and anything. Apologies follow this trend in what has become an assembly line-like process. Starts with an action, turns into regret and ends with only two words.

The next time your heart pumps regret throughout your veins, ponder, quality or efficiency? Am I sorry or do I just want others to think I’m sorry? The next time you’re on the other side of regret, contemplate what you want to feel rather than what you want to hear.

Adam is a junior in ACES. He can be reached at [email protected].