How are you going to ask me what I’m going to do about it? I have no idea what I’m going to do about and even if I did I wouldn’t know where to start.

What do you want me to do? Not go to college? Stay in town? All I really wanted to do was just get out of here. I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this.

How can you call me that? Tell me that? Take it all and spit on my face like that? How can you brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. This is a big deal for me. I’m sorry you don’t know what I’m going through or how I feel or what goes on in my head. I’m sorry that I can’t explain it to you. How am I suppose to explain what goes on in my head when I’m trying to run away from those thoughts?

Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I have to say it but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. But please PLEASE stop putting the blame on me. This isn’t my fault. 

I tried to tell you. I tried to have you understand. I pleaded so much, gave you so many warnings. I wanted you to hear me out. So many times I told you. So many times…

Why couldn’t you just listen to me? I was right in front of you! I wanted you to reach out to me. I wanted you to care. But now it’s too late and I’m sorry that it’s come down to this. I’m sorry we’re stuck like this. 

You make me feel so ashamed of myself.

I’m sorry.