I'm Sorry. I'm sorry that Rilo Kiley
I'm sorry that Rilo Kiley resonates more deeply with me than anything Robert Johnson ever sang. That I can only get into jazz as far a Kind of Blue and My Favorite Things.
I'm sorry that there's nothing in my life I actually want to work for.
I'm sorry that I'm weak. That I don't assert myself in situations where I'm clearly in the right, knowing full well that the resulting malaise will adversely affect those who care about me. That I'm lazy. That I'm tired. That I'm sad and self-pittying.
I'm sorry that every ambition I've ever had is based on being and not doing.
I'm sorry that my impulses to help other people are solely emotional, never crossing into the realm of action.
I'm sorry that I drink. That I smoke. That I eat eggs, milk, cheese, and corn syrup. That I drive instead of walk. That the thing keeping me from buying a new bike is that any bike I could afford wouldn't be cool.
I'm sorry that I'm selfish. That now I only sleep with women I could never love.
I'm sorry I have no passion for anything or anyone except a woman who is too emotionally scarred to ever love me again and a child who has never existed and will never exist. That that's my fault.
I'm sorry that 18 months ago I decided that I had to solve my problems alone instead of consulting, even for a second, the most important person in my life.
I'm sorry that I keep doing this to myself.
I'm sorry that I'm never going to stop.