I probably should call, but for so many reasons I don’t. You could hurt me, as you often do, by pushing aside who I am and adding to my angst. You could say something warm, and make me wonder why you’re not always like this. The bitter disappointment that I grew to be - something far from what you had hoped I would be, only goes to remind me daily of that quiet rebelliousness I have to only live up to my expectations.

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