My Soliloquy Disgruntled With Love

əˈpɒlədʒi

I never mean to screw up.

I make a bad call, say something and the unthinkable happens.

It's never on purpose.

It's not that I want to hurt anyone, but sometimes I do.

Sometimes I make a mistake and when I blow it up, Im sorry.

Not that being sorry really matters anymore. No apology in the world matters now.

We've all done things we not proud of.

I understand that.

I know nobody is perfect, but I do I now live with it?

How do you get up every morning and face the world, knowing I could've done better? Is being sorry really enough? Can an apology actually heal our wounds? Ease the pain I caused? Undo the hurt that we've caused?

Each day could have been done differently.