no please: i know you hate how much i apologize but i don’t know how else to say it
my mouth is always forming the words before i think them, i drip with “sorry,” leave it pooling around me, bring my wet eyes and shaky body along even though it ruins the party, apologize for so many things it only makes you angry and
i’m sorry that i spoke up in class and i’m sorry i bumped into you and i’m sorry that i didn’t text back fast enough and i’m sorry about the fact i say sorry so much
but i am sorry. i live in a flinch. i live waiting for the hand that doesn’t accept it. i live knowing people go easily, don’t forgive you for the small things.
maybe if my father said he was proud of me more often instead of asking why my grades weren’t higher. maybe if i lived in a house where i could read my poetry out loud without being told to shut up. maybe if somehow i learned to be okay with who i have become.
but i’m sorry i speak because my voice is an ugly bark and my tongue gets caught up a lot and what i want to say and what comes out are often at war. i’m sorry i bumped into you because i know i’m oblivious and an idiot and should take up less space and watch where i’m going. i’m sorry i didn’t text back i am a bad friend and you don’t want to hear about my breakdowns and i’m not going to make you live them
and i’m sorry i say sorry. i’m just sorry for existing.
my mouth is always forming the words before i think them, i drip with “sorry,” leave it pooling around me, bring my wet eyes and shaky body along even though it ruins the party, apologize for so many things it only makes you angry and
i’m sorry that i spoke up in class and i’m sorry i bumped into you and i’m sorry that i didn’t text back fast enough and i’m sorry about the fact i say sorry so much
but i am sorry. i live in a flinch. i live waiting for the hand that doesn’t accept it. i live knowing people go easily, don’t forgive you for the small things.
maybe if my father said he was proud of me more often instead of asking why my grades weren’t higher. maybe if i lived in a house where i could read my poetry out loud without being told to shut up. maybe if somehow i learned to be okay with who i have become.
but i’m sorry i speak because my voice is an ugly bark and my tongue gets caught up a lot and what i want to say and what comes out are often at war. i’m sorry i bumped into you because i know i’m oblivious and an idiot and should take up less space and watch where i’m going. i’m sorry i didn’t text back i am a bad friend and you don’t want to hear about my breakdowns and i’m not going to make you live them
and i’m sorry i say sorry. i’m just sorry for existing.
“The words ‘I’m sorry’ come out of my mouth more often than 'I love you’” // r.i.d










