“

You knew I was a troubled soul when you met me; you said it yourself. Over time, as we got closer, you learned this was true. You knew that I had broken parts inside of me and I slept in a bed of regret, of anger. You knew. You fucking knew. You saw that I had depression running inside of my veins instead of blood, and you saw that every time I was breathing, it was to smooth my anxiety. Before we kissed, you understood that this would not melt away… Or so I thought you did. I thought you understood depression does not melt away when someone holds you hand. I let you learn about me, and because you related so much, I thought you took me serious when I said I had a war going on inside of me. I’m starting to see now that we’ve been talking about two different kinds of pain this whole time. I’m sorry that you don’t understand I can’t just let things go. I am sorry you don’t understand, that even if I have, they still come back to haunt me. I am sorry that your pain is not similar to mine. You use the fact that I am your first real relationship as an excuse, but here we are, nearly six months later and you have made your mistakes into a habit. I know, you are sorry. I know, you are sorry. I know, you are sorry. I know, you (claim you) did not know.

When I said I had a war inside of me, I did not mean that sometimes I can’t hear every word you say. No. I meant that there are days I am too goddamn tired to talk. There are days I wake up wishing I hadn’t, and there are days I do not want to get out of bed. There are still days I go to bed wishing it’ll be my last night seeing the stars. I meant that there are days I want nothing to do with the world. I simply want to lay in bed and listen to music. Of all people, I thought you would understand there are days it hurts to breathe.

I’ve tried to tell you about parts of my past, but you refuse to listen because someone else’s name is involved, but then you question why I get upset over the things that I do. I’ve tried to tell you where these bruises, these scars have come from but you do not listen. You do not listen, but yes, I know, you are sorry. Yes, I know you are sorry. It is, once again, my fault. This is not something you are up to discussion for so we must sweep it under the rug, once again. When you do this, I know that you know you are basically telling me that my feelings do not matter because you flip shit if I try to pull this card. You use the fact that I am your first real relationship as an excuse, but here we are, nearly six months later and you have made your mistakes into a habit. I know, you are sorry. I know, you are sorry. I know, you are sorry. I know, you (claim you) did not know.

They say you fall in love three times. Once with your bestfriend, ruining your friendship forever. Check. Once with someone you believe is perfect. I remember how they told his flaws like a folk tell, but when he looked at me, really looked at me for the first time, it all melted away and all I saw was a gift from god. This will show you that not everyone is who you think they are. Oh how I remember we both thought it’d be forever… Right, I’m sorry. That’s one of the things you swept under the rug, as if my past did not exist. And once, you must fall in love with someone who is just like you. To teach you about who you are and who you want to be. I know that this person is you because when I look into your soul, it’s almost as if I am looking into a mirror. I’m starting to see parts that I do not like, that I do not agree with, and if this is who I have always been, I will write apology letters to every person who ever thought I was their soul mate. I love you, I do, I do, but if this is what I have become, and this all we’re ever gonna be, I will change, and better myself to the point we are no longer reflections of each other.

How can you expect me to lie next to you naked, if you can’t even look at my soul completely undressed? But yes, I do know, you are sorry. You are sorry. You are sorry. You are sorry, but do not text me trying to explain yourself, because if you wouldn’t have swept so much under the rug, you’d know why that irritates me. They say that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, and luckily for you, my mother has made her self into a very forgiving person; someone who takes punches, and bullshit like booze. Luckily for you, she has taught me this trick so much to the point I have become a master myself.

But yes, I do know, you are sorry. You are sorry. You are sorry, but do not text me nor call me trying to explain yourself. If you would of just listened instead of hushed me, you’d know why that irritates me so much.

I know, you are sorry. You are sorry. I know, I know, you are sorry. You are sorry. You are always sorry.

”

—	I know, you are sorry...