I'm sorry for being this way with you,
for the weight I carry, the things I do.
I wish I wasn't—I truly do—
but it's hard, so hard, to pull myself through.
I don't excuse the way I act,
I see it, I feel it—that's a fact.
But knowing doesn't make it right,
or turn my darkness into light.
I don't want to lose you, not at all.
Without you, I stumble, I break, I fall.
I love you too much to just let go,
even when my actions don't let it show.
I push you away, but never mean to,
each word a battle, a war I lose.
I hate myself for being this way—
if I were different, would you stay?
But I'm done, I swear, no more fight,
no more pushing you into night.
If you need to go, I'll understand,
but please—don't slip from my hand.
If leaving is what you need to do,
I won't hold on, I won't plead.
Just know, I never wanted to hurt you—
and I'm sorry.