I’m expecting you to turn around and say yes you are mad at me. That you think I am being a fucking idiot. That I’m trying to make you feel bad. And when you tell me those things, I think all I can say is I understand. Maybe I’ve been selfish and forgot that you are still upset too. And for that I’m sorry. I’ve imagined so many things I could say to you that would explain how I’m feeling, but instead I’ve told you I’m fine. It’s a fucked thing that. Convincing yourself that the one person you thought you could talk about anything too doesn’t want to listen. But I think with how things panned out tonight, I’m right. And now I so anxiously await your brutal truth. At least I know you will be honest.