You’re starting to scare me more and more these days. Last week, it wasn’t until you threw something at me that you calmed down. Today, you’re hitting and throwing things again. Breaking things. When you told me you’d broken something earlier, I almost asked if it had made you feel better. But I didn’t, because I knew it would make you feel worse.
Yet you don’t care about how you make me feel, do you? You actually said that this morning. ‘I don’t care if the things I say upset you.’ You couldn’t have put it much more clearly.
I don’t want to spend today with you. Every minute I’m with you, I feel myself shutting down and trying to get away.