Don't waste your efforts on me because every minute of my life is borrowed time. I plan to use it wisely. Whenever you come to realize that about yourself, call me.
I'll still be here for you...I hope.
I'm not really in the mood for fighting anymore. But you've hurt me. If that made you feel better, I'm glad. Just know I will never forget the fear I saw reflected in your eyes while you said those awful things. It was me, scared and shaking from the roots of my bones. Speechless. Not one thought crossed my mind.
Just fear.
A small part of my heart has turned evil because of what you did. I've felt anger to the point of picturing you small, weak and insecure, reaching for my ancles as the surface where we stand floods with kerosene. The one blink of honest kindness you own appears in the same eight of second when I drop down my remaining lit match and take a step back to watch you burn.
Too little too late.
Just like it is for you to correct yourself.
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