Unsettled.

Issues, you said. Because I couldn’t do what I wanted to. Honestly, your words were too true I could not do anything but refuse them. For the first time in a long while I lied. Or maybe I really did not, I could not remember saying no. Perhaps it was just post-shock to keep mum. You said it too plainly to react on.

The only right thing I did so far I guess was swallow the fact that you were right. That there was something I didn’t like that I wouldn’t say. That I wouldn’t be okay until I vent it all out. And maybe that was what I wanted, after all, no matter how disturbed I was not to recognise or foolish not to admit. Because my system had lately been corrupted by my unusual reaction to things. And with every nudge of angst I guess I was shaken too much to keep grip of contentment and such silly things. It must be a shame to say right now it feels like my hands are empty.

But not my mouth. I cannot be more sorry to want to blame, but I cannot be any more silent either. Because in a few weeks this will probably happen just as it does now, and you will seemingly not care when you want to and make plans not to do again. And I will seemingly try to stretch my part again and be the good person. But right now I really don’t know. Because no matter how tired I grow that my thinking becomes twisted, we both know the difficulties I think I go through can’t even be the smallest fraction of yours. And as unfitting as this may sound from me, I know you go through it all for me. Maybe that’s one reason I don’t have the right to grow tired and selfish.