You asked me if I was done, and I replied that I didn't even know where to start.
I want to start by saying that you cannot speak to me in whatever manner allows you to blow off steam, and without regard to my feelings, and then expect me to simply absorb the impact and return to status quo. That is how I WANT to start things. I can't start them that way however, because I've allowed you to throw your emotional darts until the pent up energy is gone, and then wipe the slate clean. I've let that become the ebb and flow of our interpersonal tide.
Familiarity breeds contempt, contempt breeds more contempt. Mount Contempt erupts leaves a scorched, raw, red, raised, mental scar on the inside. Then I want nothing more than to accept the hug offered in place of an apology. I want to pick up the phone and apologize. If you ask me what I'm sorry for, I can only answer "everything" because I truly don't know what to be sorry for, despite the fact that I feel so fucking culpable.
