Not Sorry

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Constant feelings of invalidation and lowliness can be wholly obliterated with the conscious decision to stop being sorry for being. It is a decision made out of pure self-love, prompted by the
fatigue that comes from spending yourself to please others and the realization that you need nothing to determine your unalterable, intrinsic worth.

Submitted: September 05, 2018

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Submitted: September 05, 2018

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I wrote a poem one day

And it said maybe someday

I’d be sick of being sorry

I’d be tired of thinking I’m hardly

A person

Making myself some automated version

Of a human being

Here for the pleasing

Of everyone else

Like the voices on the self-checkout machines

You could mute me if you wanted to

Noise you’ll never listen to

As you continue trying to scan your produce

But I’m still here for you

I thought one day I’d be tired of making myself small

Of being good at reducing all

Of my five feet and seven inches

I thought maybe one day I’d get tired

Of painting myself the color of air

Letting everyone inhale what they care to

And letting them exhale me as poison

The words “you’re here for a reason”

Always sounded a lot like

“You’re just a season”

You come dutifully on time

To fulfill your precipitation purposes

You create an environment where everything flourishes

Except you because of course you

Will very soon

Be carried off with the wind

As the flowers you watered wither to an end

And they curse your name

Because you didn’t stay

To keep them warm

And somehow you’re so sorry for that

There is a point where go with the flow

Becomes more than just an attitude

But a commitment to servitude

A decision never to make decisions

So that you won’t ever inconvenience others

So that no ounce of their happiness is lost

While yours is tossed

Out the window of the train you’re riding to nowhere

It’s not fair

But it’s the life you’ve chosen

Always say yes

Always go last

Give everything and never receive

Nothing is yours for the taking

Life is about faking

Your own contentedness
While making sure no one else has to

I don’t know when the adjectives

Nice and sweet and caring and compassionate

Got confused in my brain with

Lowly and unworthy and insignificant and undeserving

I wrote a poem one day that said

I sometimes feel like every unnecessary I’m sorry in the world

That’s a lot for one girl

The pressure is crippling

The stench of shame stifling

Hypothermic conditions replaced

All the light I gave away

Let me just say:

I’m sick of being sorry

I will give up every one of those apologies

Like the dead give up breath

Except this will give me life

I will let these demons of disesteem

Be exorcised from me

I will spend those I’m sorrys like the currency

They once were

To buy back my happiness

And never will I sell or surrender it again

Let me declare

That I deserve the mother fucking world

I deserve every centimeter of the space I take up

I deserve every bit of the love I am given

I deserve the decibels that make my voice heard

I deserve to be washed in truth

And cleansed of every falsity

I deserve to be gracious with myself

To say, “love, you’ve spent long enough

Sifting through the ruins of your own self-destruction

Let this be restoration

Let this be your declaration

That you will never again apologize for your existence

It’s time you stood first in line

Gave yourself room to flourish under the sunshine

It’s time you stopped being sorry.”

 


© Copyright 2018 Megan Robinson. All rights reserved.

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