It is with silence - and horror - that I realized I have fallen into the same pit I have angrily crawled out from just yesterday.
What do I desire? I will not attempt to answer the question for it is much easier to label each want and whim to be nothing but selfishness. I've had my hands too full and now I want them empty. Ah, the proverbial spoiled brat. If it is not my priority then it is unimportant.
When I say "It is not my problem anymore", it does not mean that I am detaching myself. It means I am not to be bothered. I am not to be troubled with additional duty. I am not to be required. I am busy. It is not my problem anymore.
I typed at my keyboard lazily. There are no uninteresting things, only uninterested people. I am uninterested to carry this conversation. Please, go to sleep.
And then it came. The deafening rolling sound that I had been waiting for. The rain pelted the battered roof. The wind whispered angrily to me and I frowned in return. I would've argued with it, for it had agreed to offer company. The drops, they fell madly. I hate it when it rains.
You left without saying goodbye, before I was able to say goodbye. You break my heart only to have it repaired tomorrow. Rinse and repeat.
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