Counting holes in the ceiling

I'm trying to invent new ways to say I'm sorry.
Believe I never wanted to be the one that hurt you.
Quite the opposite actually.

Set the stage.
But this play was doomed from the start.
Going against the grain is usually a bad idea.
Follow the smooth path and take it as it comes.
It's like I've run into a wall in a dark room.
I'm frantically looking for a light switch to understand.
Hoping it's just the wall that holds the door to a better place.
I'll only be on this side temporarily.
But once I find the key to that door, I'll be in.

Wishful thinking by a madman in the dark?
Or hope from a hopeless romantic?

Hard to say right now, cuz I'm still running my hands across this wall in darkness.
The lights flicker on for a split second.
Just enough to let me see, but not enough to piece this puzzle together.

I don't know when to shut up sometimes.
Left with such an awkward embrace.
Wishing the asphalt would open up and swallow me and my car.
It might make more sense at this point.