I'm sorry.
Sorry for the shadows I cast,
for the jealousy that clung to my heart like a thief,
stealing joy from every moment,
turning love into a battlefield
where I fought against ghosts,
lost in the fog of my own insecurities.
I'm sorry for the whispers of loss,
the heavy silence when I should have spoken,
the words that fell like stones,
heavy, unyielding, sinking deep
into the waters of trust,
leaving only ripples of regret.
I'm sorry for the doubt that wrapped around me,
a vice squeezing the breath from my lungs,
making me question my worth,
wondering if I was ever enough
enough to shine, enough to be seen,
but mostly, enough to forgive myself.
I'm sorry for my anger,
a fire that burned bridges,
left ashes where laughter should have lived,
turning warmth into ice,
pushing away those I held dear,
for fear that they might see the wreckage within.
I'm sorry for my despair,
for the nights spent wrestling with shadows,
the endless cycle of darkness
that whispered, "You're alone,"
making me believe my existence
was a burden, a weight too heavy to bear.
I'm sorry for my thoughts,
the chaotic storm that rages,
drowning me in a sea of self-hatred,
where every wave pulls me under,
a tide that says, "You don't belong,"
an echo that mocks my every breath.
I'm sorry for being here,
for taking up space in a world
that feels too bright for my dim light,
wondering if my absence would soothe,
if the silence would be a kinder sound
than the noise of my shattered self.
But, as I stand in this storm of apologies,
I wonder would it truly have been better
if I'd never existed at all?
If the universe had skipped my heartbeat,
erased my footprint from the sands of time?
I'm sorry.
Yet, in this sorrow, I seek redemption,
a fragile hope that perhaps
the weight of these words
can one day lift,
that forgiveness may be found,
not in absence,
but in learning to live with my own truth.
