I’m Sorry

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that I tend to overthink and over analyze things.

I’m sorry that my sense of right and wrong is too strong, and I go overboard trying to make sure that things stay fair. I guess it’s because I know what it feels like to have no one fight for me, even those who promised they would. Even those who should have because that’s what mothers are supposed to do. 

I’m sorry that my concerns are silly or seem inconsequential. I guess silly things just matter to me, like not letting someone take advantage of another who doesn’t know everything that’s going on.

I’m sorry that I’ve never posted a photo, I’m insecure and I hate the way I look. I’m not special, pretty, or a size two.

I’m sorry I’m not good at being lonely, even though I am usually alone. I’m not good with people and I guess that’s the reason. Animals are easier and don’t leave because you they get tired of you.

I’m sorry if I annoy you when I try to chat. Even though we may not have much in common, I love talking to you. I’m sorry I can’t take the hint that maybe people don’t want to talk because they don’t answer unless they have to, or because they rarely initiate a conversation.

I’m sorry if I feel the need to keep others safe from people who think it’s okay to belittle and harass them. I spent too many years being bullied to just let it go. As someone once said, sometimes I’m like a pitbull with a bone.

I’m sorry that people seem to think I don’t know my flaws. I am actually well aware of them and I’m sorry if my feelings get hurt when they are pointed out, time after time after time. They include, but are not limited to,  being stubborn, opinionated, overly sensitive, not sensitive enough, vengeful, unforgiving, and always taking pride in the wrong things.

I’m sorry if I live too much inside my head, but you see, I have friends and family there, and they won’t leave me. 

I’m sorry I assumed you thought of me as a friend, simply because I consider you one. I do that a lot and you would think I would learn, because sooner or later, everyone leaves.

I’m sorry.