Crow and Flame

I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m bad.
I’m sorry I’m wrong.
I’m sorry for not knowing everything,
or even what is still to come.
I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said,
all the things I’ve done,
and all the ways I’ve failed to become who I thought I was supposed to be.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for asking for attention.
For asking if I’m alright.
For wanting someone to notice when I am struggling instead of quietly carrying it alone.
I’m sorry for needing validation,
for needing reassurance,
for wanting to hear that I matter,
that I’m loved,
that I’m enough.
I’m sorry for looking for comfort.
I’m sorry for expectations.
I’m sorry for believing that if I gave enough of myself,
someone might give a little back.
For years, these apologies lived inside me,
and not because I was cruel
or because I was selfish.
Not because I had done something unforgivable.
Because somewhere along the way, I learned that my needs were burdens.
My feelings were inconveniences.
My pain was too much.
My voice was too loud.
My existence took up more space than I had permission to occupy.
So I apologized.
I apologized for crying.
I apologized for being angry.
I apologized for asking questions.
I apologized for wanting affection.
I apologized for needing help.
I apologized for having boundaries.
I apologized for existing.
Really shame is a clever thing.
It convinces us that every wound is evidence of our failure.
That every need is weakness.
That every ache in our chest is proof that we are somehow defective.
If you’ve carried trauma, abandonment, rejection, grief, or betrayal, that voice becomes familiar.
It whispers:
You’re too much.
You’re too sensitive.
You’re too needy.
You’re too broken.
Eventually, we stop questioning the voice.
We simply start agreeing with it.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
Until the apology becomes our native language.
Lately, though, I’ve been wondering something.
What if I don’t need another apology?
What if I need compassion?
What if the frightened girl inside me wasn’t looking for attention?
What if she was looking for safety?
What if she wasn’t seeking validation?
What if she was seeking connection?
What if she wasn’t weak for needing reassurance?
What if she was simply human?
Every person who has ever loved has needed reassurance.
Every person who has ever been hurt has needed comfort.
Every person who has ever felt alone has wanted someone to ask if they were okay.
These are not flaws.
They are evidence of a beating heart.
Today, instead of another apology, I’m trying something different.
I’m learning to say:
I deserve comfort.
I deserve kindness.
I deserve to ask for what I need.
I deserve to take up space.
I deserve to be seen.
I deserve to be human.
Maybethe most radical thing any of us can do is stop apologizing for the parts of ourselves that needed love all along.
So to the woman who spent years saying she was sorry—
You were never a burden.
You were hurting.
And there is a difference.
Maybe it’s time to stop apologizing for surviving.