Sometimes,
I say things I do not mean.
It is the effect of the anger I feel.
You said words that upset me,
so I wanted to upset you.
But now, I feel shame.
I did not mean
to cause you negative emotions.
I now look at your point of view.
Guilt is in the bowels of my stomach.
For this, I am apologetic.
Let the saints be my witness.

Well, how do I feel now?
A mix of emotions washes over me.
My emotions are like a web—
messy, tangled, inescapable.
I’m upset, mostly at myself.
I wonder why I care so much,
but I already know the answer.
And that answer is what upsets me the most.
They say the truth will set you free,
but first, it will anger you.
I know the truth, yet I am not free.
My heart is tied, locked.
You have the key.
You always find a way to slip into my thoughts,
even my dreams.
I wish you would leave me alone.
I want to forget your existence,
yet I can’t.
You are stuck to me like a plague—
the irony.
But what about this truly upsets me?
What is it that I want from you?
Maybe your attention.
Maybe something more.
Your actions anger me.
I have a strong dislike for stupidity and ignorance,
and you have shown me both.
I cannot change you,
but I wish I could mold you like clay.
You make bad choices,
and your response to things
shows a lack of morality.
It frustrates me.
One of the thousand questions in my mind is:
why are you like this?
Is it your mother?
A mother is a gardener,
and a child is the seed.
How the gardener tends to the seed
determines whether it thrives or withers.
And you—
you are wilted, damaged.
It shouldn’t bother me,
but it does,
because I care for you.
I know your capability,
your capacity.
But your gardener has failed you.
And for that,
I am sorry.

I am selfish.
I want you to obsess over me,
to lose yourself in thoughts of me
the way I do with you.
I want you to go mad with infatuation,
to feel this same unbearable conflict
tearing at your mind.
I want to make you jealous,
to wound your heart,
to drive you to sadness and insanity—
because that is how I feel sometimes.
And somehow,
would that satisfy me?
Will it ease my pain?
It’s not right
to want to brand you emotionally,
to leave a mark that never fades.
But there’s something wrong with me.
I guess I’m not a nice person.
I am selfish.