we are tearing down the walls between childhood and the rest of our lives and i fear we’re ill prepared.

i can feel the residual innocence of unbridled emotion underneath the label of immaturity resting atop you ribs and i am sorry.
i’m sorry we took you for granted,
sorry you’re sick of finding yourself,
sorry that sorry feels empty.
i know you’re waiting for the day it makes you whole.

we’re all trying so hard to be good people we’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a person.

i can see you filing away your feelings in false order so not even you can find them and i fear all this filing doesn’t equate to functioning and i’m sorry.
i’m sorry we aren’t your people,
sorry that ignorance is your bliss,
sorry that no one really knows you.
i know you’re trying to teach us in a way we’ll learn.

we are caught in the throes of change and tossing out the parts of us we need touched.

i can hear the ways in which you throw your thoughts aside for someone who refuses to acknowledge they notice you and i am sorry.
i’m sorry we can’t make up for it,
sorry this is the thing you need,
sorry you aren’t being seen.
i know all you want is to be the one looked back at.

we are winging our way through a new world full of wonders and wandering through ourselves.

i know hard i worked my whole life for something for it to become the thing that’s made me worse and i think i am sorry.
i’m sorry it’s not getting better,
sorry i put my faith in a falsehood,
sorry the illness isn’t situational.
i know how i wanted it to not all be on me.