Sometimes I hate.

Sometimes I think terrible thoughts.

Sometimes I roll my eyes at things that are way too corny.

Sometimes I get jealous.

Sometimes I am not grateful for what I have.

Sometimes I want more and I'm never satisfied.

Sometimes I laugh and I really do not mean it.

Sometimes I smile, but I'm really rolling my eyes.

Sometimes I'm nice only because I have to be.

Sometimes I stay positive only to fight someone's negativity.

Sometimes I care too much about what other people think.

Sometimes I say things that are hurtful to others.

Sometimes I miss church on purpose.

Sometimes I'm angry with everyone because I have too many thoughts in my head.

Sometimes I judge people.

Sometimes I think people overreact without trying to understand.

Sometimes I do nothing instead of doing something good.

Sometimes I take the easy way out.

Sometimes I really could care less.

Sometimes I am not really happy to see others happy.

Sometimes I wish I could run away.

Sometimes I wish I could just give up.

Sometimes it hurts to look back at these thoughts.

Sometimes I agree with them to avoid conflict.

Society makes us believe that these sort of thoughts are unforgivable. If I had a choice, I would choose not to think about these things. I work on this on a daily basis, but I have learned that I work better when I challenge why these thoughts came into mind in the first place. At the end of the day, we are all only human and we cannot always control what runs past our mind. This is okay. I am here to say you are not alone. I can say that with a fact that this does not make you a terrible person. I have a list of why this is;

Most times I am not thinking about what could go wrong.

Most times I am smiling and working to make someone else smile.

Most times I apologize for doing something hurtful.

Most times I will not repeat my hurtful words.

Most times I celebrate other's success.

Most times I laugh enough to work on my six-pack.

Most times I say grace for the small things.

Most times I make the most of what I have.

Most times I am nice when I do not need to be.

Most times I will compliment a small detail.

Most times I stay positive to infect it in everyone's day.

Most times I do the right thing even when no one is looking.

Most times I give everyone the benefit of the doubt.

Most times I am sorry for the decisions I make that hurt others.

Most times I stay put and face my problems head-on.

Most times I look back on my thoughts and smile.

Most times I have no idea what I am doing, but I continue to do it.

Most times I do good instead of doing nothing.

Most times I love.

The point is, most times I am doing the best I can do, and that is okay.

Maybe I could have done more.

Maybe I could have been the one to speak up.

Maybe I do have anger issues that I could've managed a lot better.

Maybe I didn't give you the attention you needed.

Maybe I never lived up to your expectations.

Maybe I never reciprocated your effort.

Maybe I could have done a better job of merely listening.

Would that have been enough to keep you around?

Would you want to stick around even through the tough times?

Would you decide that you would only leave if you were set up for success?

Would you have at least been able to tell me why?

Would you have the courage to say goodbye?

I failed in a lot of ways, and I'm sure there's a lot we would have done differently.

We can't take back what's already happened, and that's what hurts the most.

What hurts the most is not saying what I should have said.

What hurts the most is feeling my stomach twist and turn every time I see your name come up on my messages.

What hurts the most is feeling your eyes fill up with tears.

It hurts not to be able to communicate why your eyes tear up when I think about the situation.

You should still be here, but you're not.

You took a different route, and I can't for the life of me figure out why.

Maybe I could have done everything differently, but would that have been enough?

Was it always a lost cause?

Would I have been enough?

For far too long, I think I was looking for some love to save me. A sort of attachment to tell me exactly who I was and to ask me to get my **** together.

For too long I was hoping love would find me and tell me everything I didn't know I could become. Love would guide me in the right direction and avoid me making any mistake. I would become a completely different person by the time my love would come by. I would change all of the negative traits about me, and I'd automatically break all the generational curses that I've seen unfold for too long. I would figure out that everything else I cared about is a flat out lie.

For too long, I was hoping that my future love would be able to help me join the bandwagon of improvement and self-consciousness. My love would teach me everything that I was missing to become the man I always told myself I would grow into. My love would save me from all of the monsters I fight consistently live inside of my head. My love would be my Wonder Woman, and I'd be her Superman.

For too long, I thought that my love would help me become the most hard-working person in the world. My love would motivate me to exercise day in and day out, especially on those days that I didn't feel like working out. She would help me figure out how to meal prep the quickest way, but they'd still be pretty yummy meals. My love would teach me all about new music that I never got the chance to listen to. She'd introduce me to all the songs I should've been listening to from way before. She'd know all of the lyrics that belonged to Fergie in all the Black Eyed Peas songs, and I'd be her hype man or Will-I-Am to sing the other pieces.

For too long, I thought that love was always supposed to save me and force me to transition into the next chapter.

For too long, I've been putting these crazy types of expectations to my love, and I just realize it now.

My love's job will never be to save myself or to change what I'm doing or to ignite a fire in my life. I should be able to do that on my own.

My love's job shouldn't be to pick me up from the hole I dug myself into. That's my responsibility to figure out.

My love's job can't be to teach me everything I should've already learned on my own.

The only thing that I should ever ask of my love is to help herself define her happiness and allow me to contribute. I only want my love to be dependent on my love always being available for her, while she works on herself and lets me do the same. I want to be a team, and if that means I have to pick up the slack now and then for the both of us, so be it. I'd like the same.

I'll be better.