I’m sorry I knew what I was doing from the beginning.
I’m sorry I let you believe in an illusion.
I’m sorry that I was the one to shatter it.
I’m sorry because I never wanted to be the one to break it to you.
Your dream girl was just a nightmare with a pretty smile. And I’m so, so sorry.
I’m sorry I’m insecure. I’m sorry I apologize too much and couldn’t help but feel like unwanted weight when I tentatively laid my head on your chest and felt the need to ask you a thousand times over if you cared about me.
I’m sorry I’m complicated. I’m sorry I go days without getting out of bed and struggle to wash my hair or show up on time to my therapist’s office, only to sit for fifteen minutes unable to meet her eyes.
I’m sorry I’m desperate. I’m sorry I kiss strangers in the dark and memorize the way their breath feels against my neck before I ever get to know their names because I ache for a love that I cannot seem to give to myself—I’m sorry I am hungry, starved for it.
I’m sorry I am irreparable. I’m sorry I took your grin and your goodness and twisted it around, imagining the way you’d taste on my tongue as I used you to fill the void that all the ephemeral boys of my life left in my heart.
I’m sorry I was more than you signed up for.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be your dream girl. And I’m sorry because I wanted to be.
God, I wanted to be. For once. For someone. I wanted to be.
I wanted so badly to be good for you. I wanted to be the best thing that could have ever graced your life. I wanted to bring light into your life the way you flooded light into mine. I wanted to be able to love myself so much so that I could love you even more because God knows I could’ve—I could’ve loved you so hard. I wanted to love you so hard.
I wanted with every fiber of my being to love you and be the one for you, and I am so sorry I couldn’t be that for you.
Most of all I’m sorry that you had to watch your dream slip through your fingers, and I’m sorry because the truth is I had hoped you would see my insecurities and my brokenness and everything that makes me a nightmare and you would call me your dream, anyway.
For once. For you. I want to be.