For some reason, my apologies are never taken seriously. Is it because there are no tears in my eyes? Is it because of my “flat” voice? Is the trembling lower lip not good enough for you?

Is it because cold black text is as emotionless as you think me to be?

Words are all I have to soothe this bloody, gaping hole in our relationship. In times like these, I wish I had the strength to pick up that razor blade. Words always fail me in these crucial moments. They have always failed me; disappointment is a common injury that I am forced to deal with every day.

If I’m not disappointing you, at least I know that I’ll disappoint myself in one way or another. Procrastination, lying, telling secrets. Each one seems to burn holes into my soul, each one more painful than the last.

You, I’d have to say, you were my most painful experience yet. Your words still sit heavily in my chest, like a fatal stab wound and I refuse to remove the knife.


“You were never supposed to know in the first place,” you said.


…. To me, it sounded like, “We never should have been friends.” or, “I didn’t have a choice but to be your friend.”

In a way, they were both correct. I’ve acknowledged this, you don’t need to keep reminding me please; please just stop.

I’m sorry just please….please stop. You’ve already damaged me enough…Just step back ‘cause this could get ugly.

Self-loathing is easier when you have a legitimate reason to hate yourself.

I’m sorry you don’t believe my pain is just as great as yours. I’m sorry that I scared you so much. I’m so…so incredibly sorry…for giving away something that I was never supposed to have in the first place. This whole thing was my doing.. my fault entirely. I know I deserve every painful truth that suffocates me further.

Each word is a stone. Some are sharp and jagged, and some are heavy and harsh. Standing in a circle, I can see my insecurities gathering with shiny black stones in their clutches. I’m always in the center, waiting patiently for the next stoning to occur.

With each blow, the knife in my chest begins to twist deeper and I begin to see stars. Sometimes in the haze of thuds and cracks, in between the moments of shattered bone, I see your face in the crowd; stricken with fear, and a look of betrayal in your crystal blue eyes as your arm whips forward. Blacking out is never acceptable. I have to endure each moment. How… how else will you believe that my apology is sincere..?

Pain should speak louder than words…..right?