Ten minutes wouldn’t be enough,
even if I didn’t choke back all my words.

Yeah, I made a list;
I organized all my thoughts.

But how can I try to say them
when I know you don’t have a clue?

You’re far more logical than me,
and even I know I’m not making sense.

(Hell, even Lisa, with years of experience,
doesn’t get how I’m scared when I’m losing on this.)

God dammit, my dear, listen—
I have to fend for myself way too soon.

And I’m only hesitantly trying
to keep pushing forward.

I need you to understand
that I really don’t know if I can do this.

I need you, in general,
but I’m cut off from you, too.

Someone hold me accountable,
‘cause I don’t think this will end well.

I’m not doing this for me.
And I think

I can’t go much longer
without you.