I almost told you just before I left, watching that last minute count down, that I felt like punching a wall. You asked what I was thinking. I didn't tell you. It seemed unfair somehow, to leave you that way. Or manipulative, maybe. It was only the truth though.

I feel incredibly self-destructive now. I don't know what to do.



I won't. But I really want to.

Fifty minutes is a ****ing worthless amount of time. Stir it all up and send me out the door.