Social interactions have refused to make sense to me. I have been with a lot of different people at a lot of different times, and yet I am no way close to deciphering how a basic human mind functions, minus all the games and tricks it occasionally conjures.
I have let almost everybody down, at some point in time, both deliberately and unintentionally.
I have broken trust.
I have let slip secrets.
I have cared a lot – and then not cared, at all.
And I have apologised, over and over.
Yet, I still do not know when and how to keep my mouth shut. Or what to say, even. So much that, every apology of mine sounds rehearsed. Superficial. Coming from anywhere but me.
Every morning, I wake up hoping to begin today with a good degree of positivity. And almost every night, I silently sob away into slumber because I failed, promising myself that I will change things tomorrow.
But it just doesn't happen.
I have a big mouth, which opens wide a tad too much for everybody’s liking. It works fine on days that are sunny, but comes back to bite me when the sun ain’t shining. And quite frankly, the sun does not always shine, sugar; I, of all people, should have learnt that by now.
Those days, I realise, I am not fit for human interaction. That I should rather cower under a shell and spend the rest of my life typing away on this blog, pretending to be something I clearly am not. Ensuring that way nobody I care about is disappointed with me…
I wanted everything, and I cannot even maintain a f*cking relationship.
I have failed. Failed as a (boy)friend. Failed as a brother. And will soon fail as a son, too, I am sure.
I have failed, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I have failed, and all I can say now is…
I am sorry.