Things never work out;
The way you expect them to.

I wanted to be the person you thought I could be,
someone you would be proud of.
These words make a story to me that none seem to understand.

Wanting time, and dreading it.

I used to want that time.
Now I dread every minute the conversations come near.
I want away,
Why�
I don't know.
I get away and come up with an excuse,
'I want to go alone,'
'I can do it myself.'
Only to then ask a friend to come along in-place of you.

I want away,
because time is now something I hate.

The fear of being the same as you,
Fear of having those exact qualities that I dislike.
Only to hear from a friend,
that I have this amazing quality that I realized is from that time.
The time that I now dread.
The time that I looked to in previous years and had loved,
had learned so much from,
and now fear
in turn that I, myself, might turn into that time.
That time I felt was wasted on me.

Wasted.
Completely wasted.

How much had I taken from that time?

I never heard anything.
I never wanted to.
I never thought anything applied to me,
I wasn't going to mess up.
Not for time's sake.

Or so I thought.

Until everything was My fault.
And I realized all I'm good for
Is running the outskirts of life;
doing the dirty work.
Realizing that now Time was ashamed,
ashamed at how I had seemed to ignore it all those years.

My time is just an interception of yours.
Just a link that shouldn't be.

I am wrong.
I am not well.

I am
Not perfect.
Not who you wished I was.

So for the sake of this so-called 'Time,'
I'm sorry.

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