Nowhere Else To Go.

I told you.  I finally told you.  I made you go online and I told you what I felt and why.  I feel like I should feel like a weight's been lifted, but instead I feel weighed down straight on my heart with the shit that's coming out of your mouth. Or fingers.  Whatever.  When you say I don't know how bad you feel, I don't know what to say.  Partly because I want you to feel bad.  I want you to know that it's been hurting me for months and months, and because I want you to understand.  I really do miss you.  I miss talking to you about my day whether it was good or bad.  I miss you being my pink ET.

But at the same, I don't want to forgive you.  You scare me.  You could do the same thing again when I need you.

But, because I love you, you're on your final warning.  And, darling, I mean final.