I know I fucked up. I always do.
And regrettably, I make you pay for my mistakes.
I don't want you to. I never want you to.
But I have no means of covering for it, myself.
I'm sorry, I mean it. You think I could care less.
You think I'm unaware of how much it will cost you.
But I fucking swear, I'll make it up to you one day.
One day, you'll see that I can, in fact, do something right.
I am the embodiment of the very things you despise, yet you still tell me you love me. I hope you're not lying. Because no matter how much of a fuck-up I am, or how much my choices and decisions pain you, I only wish to make you feel proud of me. I never meant to do those things to you, and I never wanted any of this to happen. I love you, even if it appears that I hate you. Even though all we do is fight and yell and scream at each other, I always wish you would hug me, and we could just cry it out and apologize and move on.
Believe me, I feel fucking terrible.
mkp.
