You know,
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry
I'm loud
when I'm excited
that sometimes
I can't shut up
that I laugh too loud
for too long.
I'm sorry
that my happiness
is always over-excited
and too hyper.
I'm sorry
that sometimes I cry
over the tiniest thing
becoming inconsolable
for hours.
That I wake up,
running on silent autopilot
staring at walls
and biting my lips
lost in swirling depths
of spaced out sadness
magnetized
by riveting failure
and melancholic songs
pulling my fingers
and my sudden one-track mind.
I'm sorry
about how generous
my happiness becomes
after alcohol
and raspy clouds
That I'm just as quickly up
as I am down
I'm sorry I spend my nights
tip-toeing on fountains
and the middle of streets
and speeding through back roads
and grasping the edges
of cliffs
as if somehow
any of this
will make me feel alive again
like I'm not wasting experiences
or people
like I'm not taking enough chances,
like potential
and genuinity
and life
are going down the drain
before I get the chance
to take life by storm
and live
with no regrets.
I'm sorry
that sometimes
I'm on one road
going one direction
but in a second
I'm somewhere else entirely-
I'm a mess
trying to find myself,
pouring
through people and music
getting told
to stop chasing,
but would you?
Would you stop chasing
sparks
and sunny words
when you're a fuse
dipped in gasoline?
I'm sorry,
if you're waiting
for me to slow down
and keep both feet on the ground
I'm sorry
if you're sitting through my worst times
and sailing through
my best,
thinking
eventually I'll figure it out,
I think
one day
I'll learn
but I doubt
it'll be anytime soon.
