I miss the way the words flow from my mind into the ink on the page. Some days I feel like Iím just another actor on this stage.
The stage that we call life. Some of us were taught to be kind, others were raised to carry a knife.
As if theyíre sending us into battle. Kindness is a nice gift but it doesnít protect me from harm. What do I do when someone is grabs my arm? Say please let go? Sometimes I feel like I canít stand on my own.
Iím sorry for things people say I shouldnít apologize for. But the same people look at me and say they expected more. The same people are part of the reasons why Iíve had to pick myself up off the floor in the first place. Iím sorry you feel that Iím such a disgrace.
Iím sorry Iím a disappointment. Iím sorry you feel Iím not worth it, all the stress and bullshit that I cause. Iím sorry I constantly feel like Iím not enough. Iím sorry I canít handle the tough love.
Iím sorry you feel the drama that comes with me and my trauma makes you...