to feel the same as you once did, only worse.
Like a sharp knife re-opening an old scar.
If its not worth dwelling on, why bring it up?
It isn't worth it.
Thats why I am sitting here writing instead of talking.
Your reaction is the worst part.
The part that tears away at me for amounts of time yet to be determined.
I can't be idealized.
Neither can you.
You don't mean to hurt me.
But you have to look past your own feelings
to see what this is doing to not only me,
but to us.
It just detracts from what is worth it.
Which is you and me.
And we know that.
And we will always plough through.
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