Flawed

I say that I'm sorry, but they tell me that I shouldn't be.
I act the way I do because I don't think, and that causes hurt and distrust.
From that hurt,
From that pain,
I am equally hurt.
They tell me that I shouldn't be sorry for the way I am.
I tell them that they are wrong.
I should be sorry.
I am sorry.

For someone not poetic in any way, shape, or form... well, I won't even attempt to flatter my work. I'm starting to feel like crap. I should.

What happened to me over the last two years to become like this? Have I always been like this? What is the deal with that? I don't understand. So many thoughts going through my head. Some I wish I never thought about. I feel so confused, so lost now. I mean, who am I? I thought I knew, but I guess I don't. I don't know anymore than I did before I started feeling this way.

What kind of friend am I? What kind of person am I? Am I really that bad? How can I validate myself? Should I even validate myself? Why am I so insecure? What happened to me to be so screwed up?

One name keeps coming up when I ask these questions: Andrew.

Why did I meet him? What was the point? If things happen for a reason, were the last two years suppose to make me so insane that every time I try to make friends I fail to the point where I'm bordering Van Gough on the insane meter? Am I wrong to think that I am just really lonely?

I need help, but I'm too lazy to get any... like I can now.