I'm sorry I never have quite the right words.
I'm sorry that when I open my mouth to say something of use, a mixed pile of words tumbles into stale air and clocks you squarely in the jaw.
I'm sorry I underestimate silences, feeling the need to fill every void with some insignificant word of my own. I'm sorry it keeps taking me time to realize that sometimes the brief moments of pause are brief moments of relief. Sometimes words aren't the answer. Sometimes it's just a presence, a person.
I'm sorry if it ever seems like I'm just trying to fix things. We both know that I can't. I can't just magically put things back into place with the right cryptic line-up of words, and I can't pressure you into sitting there while I try. Because we know it's not going to happen, and honestly, I kind of belittle your situation by believing that's all it takes. Everyone needs time to be not ok before things can be ok again. Trying to rush someone through that process is digging deeper into an open wound, not patching it up.
I'm sorry I wander circles and wind up saying the same thing five times. My brain gets so caught up in trying to find the perfect words that it'll give the same thought a trial period, thinking it will mean something different the more I say it. It won't. It'll mean the same thing it meant two minutes ago and the same thing it'll mean two minutes from now.
I'm sorry I occasionally fall silent and keep staring at you like there is something on the tip of my tongue. You and I both know that isn't true. The truth is, I wish something were on the tip of my tongue. I am attempting to will something profound onto the tip of my tongue while I glance at you sidelong and fish around for something that at least sounds somewhat intelligent and memorably helpful.
I'm sorry I start to ramble like I'm afraid of stopping. I just want to be the person you need, and when you entrust me with what is on your mind, I instantly get nervous I'm not doing enough to help, to change the situation, to be there for you. I'm afraid that all it takes is one wrong move and you'll regret ever speaking with me. But that shouldn't be my focus. I want my focus to be you. You'll tell me if you need me with you, you'll tell me if you need me to be away. All I need to do is be there for you, whether that means with you or apart.
I'm sorry I backtrack and contradict myself constantly. I'll have a point I feel so strongly, then one doubt enters my mind and I'm racing away to take it all back. I'll say the exact opposite of something I said moments ago as if I didn't generate and voice the thought I'm now rejecting. I'll confusing twist my words into rollercoasters to make some elaborate word scramble I think you'll like. I want to speak with you as me, and I want to give you my truest thoughts and opinions in whatever way they may help. You were honest and shared with me your heart. It seems only fair I do the same.
I'm sorry I'm not quite sure what to do or say. I'm sorry that's me most of the time. But know that I love you. Know that I'm grateful for you. Know that I want to hear whatever's on your mind. Know that you can always tell me to shut up. Know that you can disagree with every single thing I have to say. Know that I'm just a scared kid wanting to do right by the people she loves. Know that you are one of those people and that if I can help, I will bend over backwards to do so.
Know that my words will never be enough. But if I could do right by you with them even once, it is worth a lifetime of effort.