Sorry not sorry.

I'm sorry I never post pictures on my blog, it just takes to much time.
I'm sorry I'm so insecure about everything, even though you can't see it.
I'm sorry I'm apologizing about things no one really gives a whoot about. Unless you were an owl; I'd just want you to find the center of a tootsie-pop.

I feel bad I can't please everyone. What's worst of all, I can never please myself. I'm not sure if it's my high expectations, or the fact the I put too much weight on my shoulders along with the backpack full of stones.
And each stone has one word written on it, but these words are in another language I can't translate.
It's like giving a baby a violin and telling it to play Beethoven. And yes, I realize he didn't play violin but you get my point.

Sometimes it feels as though the only thing my parents appreciate about me is that I always finish the empty boxes of cereal, even if there's only two bites left.

I'm sorry I can't hang out tonight, but I already made plans with the girl I told I was insecure about my arm-hair to. I just feel more comfortable around her.
The problem is I'm even more comfortable around the girl who I don't tell my insecurities to because I know she doesn't care. She sees me for who I am. She is down-to-earth and just, gets it.

I'm sorry I haven't answered your phone-calls lately, but you've been such a dick to one of my best-friends that I don't want anything to do with you.

I'm sorry my posts are so broad and jumbled and confusing.
I always imagine them as a beautifully dyed Easter egg, but they just end up being brown because I added too many colors.
Brown isn't bad.
You just got to dissect the colors yourself, find the true interpretations and the blueprints are laying around somewhere gathering dust.

I'm sorry not sorry.

-J.Stamos.