I’m sorry that I’ve wasted so long trying to make you happy when all this time it’s never even worked. How is it I could have assumed such a strategy that stole so many years? I’m sorry that I have placed rules and obligations, and how things ought to be, as a precedent over joy. I’m sorry that it has taken me so long to register that these are only scams to plunder life.
And all this time, all those commitments to doing what is right have made me feel so joyless I’ve rarely seen the point. And I’m sorry that despair has driven out my life.
But now I’m sorry that I won’t do that any more. I’m sorry if my shiny red, open top Cadillac provokes your disapproval because I’ll drive it all the same. Music playing loudly, scarf blowing in the wind, I intend to bite large pieces out of life and love; and ignore all roadside warnings.
I refuse to let more time pass without being in every moment, lamenting that Monday is not Sunday, or rain is not sun, or loss is not love. Instead I want to claim it all, and feel the many colours. Because most of all I’m sorry that I’ve not trusted how it is.
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