You owe me an apology. Actually, you owe me several. And this is coming from the part of me that’s hurt because the anger has dried up by now. Camping was an awful idea, I should have known we couldn’t all be together in the same place. Remember why you took off in the first place? It wasn’t because of me and yet you were still nasty to me. Why, because I didn’t want to cuddle with you? Because I didn’t wander over to you and see if you were okay? Grow up sweetheart. I’m not your girlfriend, I’m barely even your friend at this point. Then you came back, only to be a bigger asshole. I should have stood up and punched you the second the flashlight hit my eyes. Yes, we realized we weren’t drunk, would you like to know how? We weren’t drinking. But why is it that you get to be the sober shitshow who moons people and plays with fire yet we can’t giggle? Yet He can’t carry me to the bathroom because I’m barefoot? Right, this makes a lot of sense. And what’s better is you screamed at me to the point in which he had to coax me out of the bathroom I had locked myself in. Ask me why I was crying, go on, ask. Because of you. Because for some ungodly reason, you didn’t love me anymore. You decided that you could use me and scream at me and kick me around. That’s not okay. That never will be okay. Let’s go back to a few nights before, when I fell asleep on your couch and you and the other boy jumped on me to wake me up so we could watch another movie together. Then you ended up laying on the couch with me. You held me so tightly that I thought you were afraid I would disappear. You know, I have guy friends now aside from my boys. They don’t treat me like a plaything. I’m not easy to use and available when you’re home and lonely so don’t treat me that way. I am person and at one point I thought I was your friend and that’s why none of this is okay anymore.

And I would be standing in front of you saying these words if I thought it would matter in the end. But it doesn’t anymore. You could show up at the house with bundles of daisies and be down on one knee, begging for me to hear you. And then you could apologize for hours on end about all the wrong things you’ve done, not just in the last few days but the last year or so, and still I wouldn’t take you back. I wish you luck back at school and your mission, and when you come home, I wish you luck with the band. [But “here’s your backpack, please never speak to me again.”]

– Untangled From You.