You know what you did was wrong. You may not show it in all the right ways and you may never let anyone know it, but I think deep down you know what you did was wrong. But that doesn’t mean giving up is right. Giving up your life isn’t the right to correct the wrong.
Everyone makes mistakes in their lives. There are reasons behind everything. Write off any mistake for a video game, poor parenting, or social neglect, but I’ve got a feeling that it goes deeper. These reasons aren’t excuses or solutions to mistakes, and you can’t ever undone what’s wrong. But there is also a reason, a human reason for a mistake. I think there are two ways you can see the world. You can either see the sadness in the world, or you can filter that sadness out. I’m not lying when I say I don’t blame her. She hurt me, but I hurt someone else in return. I’m not excusing myself, I made a mistake. Even so, loneliness is a powerful motivator. I’m selfish, jealous, alone, unhappy, and most importantly, human. Forgive me, I’ve been seeing sadness.
When I think about it, when my mind begins to wander, there’s nothing I can do but see the sadness. Every spare moment my life is punctuated by my mistakes, no matter how wild, exciting, or happy the sentence before it might have been. I don’t sleep well, I just lie there and think. I try to continue to live, but all I think of are mistakes and my chest gets tight and I can’t really breathe… My dreams– my life –is always filled with sadness and I all I want is for it to go away.
“It happens at different times for different people, but it happens to everybody. It’s the worst part about growing up, heartbreak, but it’s a part of life. It seems like a pretty big part. That’s why you have to believe life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo.” Maybe it makes sense now. Maybe somewhere in all of this mess that I’ve made, there’s a reason. You know I’m sorry, but nothing, nothing– not tears, prayers, or apologies can make what’s happened go away.
Finally, perhaps there’s a reason for that none of this ever goes away. Maybe we’re not afraid of the bad things in life. Maybe we’re afraid of the good things in our lives. So scared, in fact, that we put up defensive walls, act out terrible deeds, and sleep nights filled with tears of regret. Maybe we just need– make the bad stuff so we can remember how great the good stuff is. You’ve got to remember that there’s something bigger to life than your mistake.
You know I’m sorry; that doesn’t change anything, but I am. Let me know that you hear me, let me feel your touch. Just promise me that someday everything will be okay again. After all, it’s only fair. I’m here to promise you something: I’m done making mistakes. Let me know that you love me, an I’ll let that be enough.