Sometimes I tell you things. After. Maybe just so I know someone is listening, so I'm not alone. You wont read this, so it doesn't matter. You'll never know.

I give up. I can't do anything right. It seems I never learned how, but I don't know what to do, so I'll just keep watching- keeping warm alone in my little box.  

I see that you've pulled away, and I wish you wouldn't. I don't know what to expect. But I do wish, I wish we did this more. Just talk. Just sit. 

i begin to wonder if you really understand. You ask me questions, hard questions, and I don't have answers. I have stair-way thoughts. You say. 

I'm catching the earlier flight, not because you said not to, but because i can see in myself a desperate need for change. A need that I never noticed until now. 

I had plans. Little plans, flexible plans, but still plans. I prepared. I hoped. I looked forward to relaxing in your company, but somewhere you forgot that I asked to just hang out. 

Somewhere you were tied up in your own thoughts. And I knew you would be. And I knew that things wouldn't be perfect. 

I just wanted to be able to relax in your company. Company. I just wanted to BE and be with you for awhile. But you accuse and subtly attack. 

You make me feel inferior, and then superior, and then regret everything I have because not everyone can have it. 

We talked and you tore me apart. I wonder what YOU want, and I wonder if you even know. You helped me figure out a small piece of myself.

Now that I have it, I don't know what to do with it. I'm afraid I'll lose it. But I still wish we could do that more. 

But maybe someplace more comfortable, please.