Can’t say that I haven’t been this upset, but I can say it’s been a while. I honestly thought she had more sense that this, but I guess I’m beginning to expect much more from her. Knowing expectations, they’re never fulfilled unless they’re simply that amazing, that connected, and that aware. She’s not. I should accept that.

What if I don’t though. I think I’ve done a splendid job understanding her. When she’s drunk, she absolutely has no regards to who she may or may not be making uncomfortable, and that’s my friend’s included. Accepted. When she cries, most of the times they’re about insecurities, and I do me - I revive her as much as I can. Accepted. When we argue, she blows things out of proportion, and I’ve realized that as much as I listen, when I’m heated, I don’t, so in her case I will myself to shutt my trap. Accepted. But seriously. I haven’t been this confused, tortured, and dismayed about my family since the last time my father and I fought.

It’s my mom’s house. It isn’t my family’s. My sister doesn’t live there with my dad; it’s my mom’s. As pleasant and quaint as the space is, it’s foreign, and it represents everything that is represented by a failed marriage. Why couldn’t she take an hour out of her schedule to be with me, to hold my hand, to kiss me, and to tell me everything will be all right. I need that right now. Instead, you decide to go jogging. Jogging. You haven’t exercised in months, and the day I might be ready to cry in the crevice of your neck, you blow me off.

This, to me, is not love. I know love. I knew love. I thought I’d find it with you, but this was a mistake.

You’ve argued on so many worthless occasions the things you do for me, but I can tell you, I have never tried so hard to change my general outlook on social light and relationships all in all just so you’d be happy.

I’ve never expected anything from you. I’ve never asked anything from you. I don’t ask for help, but you fucked up, Rejoy. I swear, this kills it for me.

Maybe, I deserve all this. Maybe, my family’s falling out is karma. Maybe, you’re my karma, but I digress. I may deserve this, but I don’t deserve this much of it.