I’m sorry that I apologize constantly.

Ironic, right?

It drives my friends crazy

I ruin our fun with my apologies

My conscience tells me:

You’re weird

You’re probably scaring them

You hurt their feelings

Say sorry


It's one, singular voice that I have carried for eons

My conscience, my insecurities even as a child,

Silenced me

I’m just now finding a voice that carries strength and certainty

And I’m sorry for that because now

I’m obnoxious or overly confident

Never the perfect state in between


I’m sorry that small, pathetic experiences

Became traumatic to me

And they molded my heart and mind into this-

Putting it simply-

This, chaotic mess


And I’m sorry, once again,

One, for being repetitive

And two, because I’m about to get negative


“It’s not you, it’s me”

I hate cliches

But this particular line became my reality

We aren’t right right now

I called it a break

Then I called it off

And now I’m the snake

I’m sorry because somehow I knew that I’d be the one to break you


I wear this guilt,

I let it weigh me down


I haven’t called my sister in two years

I disapprove of every move

I’m the youngest and yet

I’m the one she wants to impress

I’m sorry but I am angry with you

You had so many examples to set

And instead

You lied, you took my naivete and played it against me

You proved that I’m a fool,

That no matter how many times I’m beaten and bruised,

I’ll brush it off and ask the wrong doer what I can do

To undo whatever was done

I’m sorry that my silence,

My judgements now make you feel like the fool

I’m sorry, but a part of me believes that you deserve it


Families are supposed to be close

I met my father’s mother twice

Her name was Grace

And I find that ironic because that means

She was the two things I now desperately need:

A grandmother and Grace

I’m sorry that I’m angry with her even though she’s gone

And I wish she hadn’t broken my father’s heart

Maybe that’s why

He’s so, so sorry

He shouldn’t have to feel sorry.


Dad, I am not the daughter you deserve

I am not the daughter you’ve earned

I’m sorry


I carry these worries,

I lug around the memories, the loathing

I bear through it

And apologize when I can-

I’m sorry, I mean-

As often as possible

When necessary-

I think


I’m sorry you’re listening to this

I’m sorry I freak out over the little things

I’m sorry that I either care too much or not at all

I’m sorry for things I can’t control

I’m sorry that I’m rambling

On and on

I promise I’ll stop

I’m sorry I’m so tall

I’m sorry that I’m not even THAT tall

But it’s all I can think about sometimes

And I wish I could shrink

Or sink into the pool of self pity

I’ve been building for the past eighteen years

And I’m sorry to myself because

I don’t deserve to feel like a burden

I’m sorry because I criticize every little thing about me

And it still isn’t enough

I’m still not where I need to be

I have days where I refuse to change because I hate my body

I say things aloud and get so angry that I shut down

Did you really just say that? Do you even think before you speak?



I am so sorry, but more than that,

I’m tired of being sorry

And most of all,

I’m just f*cking sorry.


  • S.W.

This poem is about: 
My family
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741