I’m done trying to be perfect. I’m done striving to live up to other people’s expectations. I’m done banging my head against the proverbial wall that is my parents inability to love me for who I am. I’m done worrying about what others think. I’m done paying attention to stupid fucking anonymous people who are under the impression that they know me. I’m done being afraid of myself. I’m done being in denial. I’m done hiding. I’m done keeping secrets. I’m done acting like nothing is wrong when everything is wrong. I’m done pretending that I have no feelings.
I’m done being so terrified that I’ll disappoint someone that I end up pushing away the one person who makes me feel like I’m actually worth something.
I’m just fucking done.
This means exactly what you think it means, and if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I was never ashamed of you. That’s what you thought, wasn’t it? That I was ashamed? I wasn’t. I’m not. I’m just weak, but I’m trying to be stronger, because I know that you need someone stronger. I wanted you to carry me, but asking you to do that was wrong. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of the pain that I’ve caused you, and I’m sorry for not keeping you safe like I should have, like I wished I could, still wish that I could. I’m sorry I drove you to extremes because I wasn’t brave enough to say any of the things that I’m saying right now, and I’m sorry that you thought I didn’t want you.
I’m not sorry, however, for feeling like I do about you. Not anymore.
I hope you can forgive me.