You built scaffolds of patience around my distractions. I called it friendship. You called it work. Now I call it a debt I can’t repay except by staying awake the way you always did.
Sorry, Karl. Not for the small things—the missed calls, the half-listened theories, the night I laughed too late at something you meant with your whole throat. But for the larger silence: the one where I should have said I see you and instead said I’m fine . sorry karl
Here’s a short piece titled — written as a reflective or poetic apology. Sorry, Karl You built scaffolds of patience around my distractions
Sorry, Karl. And thank you. Those two birds, finally flying together. Would you like this adapted into a letter, a song lyric, or a voice note script? Now I call it a debt I can’t
So here— my attention, finally. Not to fix. Not to earn absolution. Just to say: You were right. About the thing. About me. About the weight of showing up.