Paige in a Poem

This poem was written when I was sixteen. I've never been able to explain myself in an organized way except for this, and of course, this still doesn't make too much sense. But then again, neither do I. 

I don't keep a beat, my emotions are never steady,
I could tell you to go now, but in reality I'm never ready.
I make every mistake to be made, and I practically do it on purpose,
I'm rough around the edges, and smooth at the surface.

All I ever want is to be told I'm loved, and that it will stay that way,
but I can never keep it held; it always slips away. 

I push and push until nothing can be pushed anymore,
to the point where nothing is left; I've worn you to the core.

I push every button, just to see what will happen,
hoping to get nothing but my own satisfaction.
Instead it's the opposite, and I just shove you away
and then I deal with that guilt, every single day.

I say what I think, but I never mean what I say,
I change my mind all the time, every second of every day.
If I could keep a steady pace in my words I would,
but it's not easy to speak when nothing I have to say is any good.

I wish I could hear you say, "I’m sorry that I hurt you, I’m sorry that I never cared. 

I’m sorry that I lied to you, and faked the love we shared.

I’m sorry that I’m stupid, and coudln’t make your dreams come true." 

and to finish it off, "I’m sorry for meeting you."

The ending to this is my favorite part, but it doesn't really have any relevance to the lines above... oh well. No one ever said poetry was perfect!