I’m supposed to be working on a paper right now, but I can’t help but notice your- shall we call it a habit?- of being intoxicated whenever I’m near. Between you and our dear friend I can’t help but think it’s because of me. Am I that unbearable? Is that the only way others can stand to be around me? I wish you would just tell me. I’m trying to make myself as unobtrusive as possible right now. You’re playing a game while I type this. You only speak to show your annoyance or to point out a feature of the game. That’s fine. At least you’re acknowledging me.
It’s the small things like this that add up. They make me question whether you mean it when you say “I love you.” The sweet words you say hushedly- are they naught but sweet nothings? Meaningless phrases meant only to keep me enamoured? I sincerely hope it is not so, but there is too much telling me otherwise.