by Ana Navarro
I’m sorry for when I made you sad when you thought about me more than I thought about you. I’m sorry I couldn’t explain my pain, and so you had to suffer. I’m even more sorry about how I changed you. You now make my destruction your fun. Always game to see how hurtful you could be. Which way was best to communicate to me just how meaningless I am.
I’m sorry I was a challenge. That I challenged you more than the vapid, ever-changing girls, you now choose. Don’t you know that you won’t find me in the next girl, or the one after that? I was too complex for you to embrace. I couldn’t be satisfied with a shallow “I love you.”
I’m sorry I hold you accountable for how you act, and what you say. I’m sorry I can’t be your cheerleader, but I won’t be your doormat. Maybe we can never give each other what we need. Or we can, but we cannot admit it, can’t commit to it. I could never commit to an "us." My apologies, though more frequent, never seem to be good enough for you.
How was this one?