patching up holes
this, unlike so many before it, is not a story about sorrow. god, there have been too many and they have all been in foul taste. in fact it would appear i have exhausted myself and simply have no grace left to muster. every step is on wobbled knees. every landing is a broken ankle. these lips will not articulate the words nor will my brain fire a signal straight the whole trip to my tongue. this is about admittance. i apoligize. i will send sorrys to all for i have handled everything with the wrong gloves and there is nothing that hasn't shattered in the process. and worst, i have made myself a point of sympathy. sorrow and woe have been close friends of mine and they have let filth and disgust sleep in my bed. how they have stained my sheets. lord, their stink will not leave the room. of course it has always been best to pick yourself up from the boot straps after any good fall, but i have been leaning on the wrong shoulders and putting my trust in calloused hands. how foolish, god, how childish i have been. to think, i have found solace in the slosh of a drink. i have found peace in the burn down my throat. there are those i have misused, abused, taken for granted or otherwise mistreated and to them i am sorry. from a deep and somber spot in my heart, i am sorry. if i was dirty i should have never washed my hands on your clothes, should have never laid my burden on your shoulders, much less tainted the well with my blood. then to argue, to make enemies of friends, it is the sign of a fool and a greedy one at that. i have preeched, made myself an obligation. "you owe me. look what i've done for you and look at my bruises." i have spit and cursed and worse once more, i have lied. skewed my stories, twisted my tales. all to convince myself. how victimized, how taken advantage of. this has never been the truth but it has been the easiest pill to swallow. easier than one of enevitability. easier than a shot of something fatigued, something tired, something that could not have carried itself much further. lord knows it was bound to be a sour drink but in truth it should have been a flavor i sipped slowly, one that i should have cherished for having survived so long without tasting. i should have been happy i'd ever known something sweet at all. but this is not the case. i have burned bridges, raised fists, and almost wished i'd never wake up. almost saw to it that i'd never wake up. for all of this i'm sorry, more than i can put to words. i am sorry, i love and cherish you all, and for the first time in a long time, i don't want anything else in return.