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Saturday.
I don't know how many times I can rehash this. We are beating dead horses, it doesn't matter how many times I say I need time.
But that ultimatum you threw at me in the last round is the toughest blow to date. I do not know how you can claim to love someone and not want them to be happy. And I certainly cannot fathom how you could not be friends with the mother of your child when that mother is me. Not once have I believed I deserved that.
I will harbor this anger, safe in its moors, and it will be the vessel in which I will leave you.
1:06 p.m. - 2013-01-12
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