I can't tell you about my good, self-preserving decisions if you start screaming at me. Oh, ye of little faith.
And really, I believe I'm allowed to feel what I feel, regardless of your approval.
And if I do make mistakes, try to understand that they come from a well-meaning, very loving place in my heart.
And try to excuse my sarcasm when I apologize for how hard this has been for you.
I'm sorry to tell you things that upset you. I have lost the person that I would ordinarily tell everything to. If I don't let these things out, I think I will explode, and an exploded person can't go to work Monday morning.
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