mistakes, clearly

It’s really amazing, just how many things rest on those few mistakes.  Few?  How many mistakes?  5 mistakes, 10 mistakes, 700 mistakes.  Too many mistakes, followed by more mistakes.  I’m mistaken.  He’s mistaken.  I was a mistake.  I’m making mistakes.  I’ve made mistakes.  Is this a mistake?  Or am I finally fixing my mistake(S)?  Too many to fix, but I’m trying.  oh god I’m trying, harder than I have on anything before.  I know this is hurting him, and it’s hurting me, so, so much, but it’s the only thing for us right now and something has to be done because the whole thing makes me sick.  I make me sick.  

It’s always everything all at once.

There’s telstra to deal with, there’s the real estate to deal with, the centrelink forms to deal with, the insurance to deal with, the rego to deal with, the online billing to deal with, the french oral, the carbon sync website, the AFP website, the fruit fly people to deal with, and then there’s this, fucking this, and I’m trying my fucking hardest and it honestly feels like it’s never going to go away.

But I knew that didn’t I?  I should have known that.  I should have thought about it.  Should have thought about everything.  Cause et conséqence…. c’est toujours la même chose.  

Sorry is no longer enough.  And god it hurts me to see him hurting.  It’s just ridiculous the extent to which I fucked up.  And the extend to which I was so fucking stupid that I didn’t realise it would ever matter.  But it does.  It matters.

It matters more than anything.