I'm sorry. Can I even begin to say that? Or were my deeds too dirty to absolve? I may not fully understand you, and I may not want to, either. But the fact remains-I'm sorry. Sorry for taking advantage of what you've provided me to take advantage of. Sorry for soiling my own laundry that I washed every Sunday. Sorry for being the perfect little non-daughter.
I apologize. Be it for my mental health or the world's, I apologize. Misguided, misinformed, misunderstood: whichever I was, I still am. But I know now my value. I apologize for being colorblind enough to not see your rainbows upon sunflowers upon gardenias upon peacocks that you've showered me with. And most of all... I apologize for being sorry.