And then she has the gall to ask me what I want.
What I want...
I don’t see how this fucking matters.
And through the shock anger shows its face.
I say OK.
Say you know what I want.
I say I want to be with you.
I say I want to grow old and change with you.
I say that I want to love you and… and…
I begin to cry, and then she starts crying as well and I feel like an asshole.
I reach out to hold her, to comfort her and she pulls away.
I watch her cry and realize we’re weeping for two different reasons, me for us and her for herself.
Deep down this hurts worst of all.