I’m sorry. Two simple words that speak measures about the things I didn’t say.

Dad.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t have been a better person.
I couldn’t always keep my room clean or keep my grades high.
I wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to or even understand.
I didn’t make life for you easier, and for that: I’m sorry.

Brother.
I’m sorry I said words I didn’t mean and didn’t fully understand how much they affected you.
I rejected your forms of affection and care because I thought I didn’t deserve them.
I pointed fingers and made empty promises without justification.
I spoke to you bitterly and harshly, and for that: I’m sorry.

Mom.
I’m sorry. To you the most, I’m sorry.
I wasn’t the daughter you wanted me to be.
I turned my back on your advice and guidance.
We often fought over views that didn’t align.
We were two opposites, but unlike magnets, I didn’t fight to make us connect.
And for that: I’m sorry.

To all those I have hurt:
I’m sorry.
I wasn’t the person you needed me to be.
I couldn’t be more, even when I wanted to.
But I hope you know I loved you,
in all the ways I knew how,
even if it wasn’t enough.