I am sorry.

I understand.

I am not everything,

you dreamed of me.

I am sorry,

that you loved me so much you decided for me,

the best way to live. 

But not freely.

I am sorry,

that you know only the paths well-cut.

I am sorry,

that I walk those less traveled.

I am sorry,

that my life fills me with wonder,

and that I am kissed by heaven’s wisdom.

I am sorry,

that I don’t worship those who are no better than I,

those who are just as fallible as any of us.

I am sorry.

I am,

that, I am.

That I am my own. 

That I am self driven

to my own motivation.

I am sorry.

I am free,

to do good my own way.

I am sorry.

I am not, will never be,

this someone else that you love so dearly. 

I am me.

And this is wholly good.

This is greatness.

Not wasting my life,

living another’s dream,

of shallow consequence.

I see this now,

that you are blind.

And your dreams never came.

Thus, you are disappointed,

in me.

Because you are disappointed, 

in you. 

I am sorry.

I must live as my soul sees fit.

I must live as my dreams bear witness.

I must live as life is short.

I must live.

Because I am.

And I have only one self.

Only one life,

to live as my conscience guides me.

For I could know no greater sorrow,

than to live in the shackles of your expectations,

while my soul cries out in desperation,

to just be free,

to just be me.

For all of this I am sorry.

I am sorry.

I am.

Not.