Sometimes the only way into my brain is to read my poetry.

Because talking to people is terrifying. And I don't know how to not be socially disastrous.

I don't know how to stop saying the wrong thing, so I don't talk. For fear of saying the right thing at the wrong time. And so far, I have become a train wreck of my mistakes. So I write.

So you're reading my life on pages. And this is real.

I can tell you with absolute certainty that these are my honest thoughts.

I know there is no good explanation for my actions.

I know there is nothing I can say to fix what happened.

But I'm willing to try again.

I'm willing to try.

I know I upset you. And I get why. But I am not strong enough to tell you face to face, so my thoughts end up here.

And that may not be the best thing I could've done.

I know.


...I know.