Don't say "I'm sorry".
Hate me, curse me, spit at me, belittle me, spread malicious lies about me, kick me, mock me, loathe me, yell at me, BLAME ME. Do something, anything to transfer the guilt to me because so long as I was involved in any way it IS my fault, I will see you as nothing but blameless and I will KNOW that it is entirely my doing.
For the longest time now, being a scapegoat, being someone others can blame or pinpoint as a cause of their misfortunes - even if only in my own mind - has been my only way of rationalizing my existance. Refusing to admit something I did or felt or thought or said really is to blame for the pain it caused you is to nullify my existance. I am not so far gone that I cannot discern what is real from what I know to be true in my own mind and I know this really is my fault, that I did something, not you. I fucked up. Or I am fucked up. One of those. Refusing to acknowledge this leaves me a small child with a pat on the head and the reassurance of "there, there, it's okay. You didn't know any better. Run along now while I sort things out, and be more careful next time."
Immature and witless and blind and deaf and dumb though I may be, I am not a child. Not physically, not (always) mentally, and (on occasion) not emotionally.
I sometimes wish you hated me. I wish everyone did. I wish you all could just blame me, because once blame is gone fixing the problem becomes easier.
I wish I could be some sort of despised Jesus, taking your anger and hurt and bitterness and paying for it with my blood.
As it is, my blood is pretty worthless.