Written May 16, 2011
No amount of Skittles or Swedish Fish or Starbucks on me could compensate for your time and patience. I think I’ve crossed a line. I think I’ve asked too much, and I feel like I owe you for simply not being a dick to me. God, what’s wrong with me? I think I deserve so little that you should be a real ass to me, and I’m thrilled you haven’t. In fact, I expect you don’t know that I’ve offered you more than what I’ve already given, but I’ll come through with it anyway, ‘cause my debt cannot be repaid. Nothing I can do can make up for my pulling you back over and over into my self-induced personal hell.