I am guilty.

Of over-inflating my importance in your life.

You don’t need me. You certainly deserve better.

You, my dear, deserve the world. And joy. And happiness.

Someone who will deliver that promise. To take you to the moon and back. A sugar father, perhaps. At least someone who has found success.

Not someone who is afraid of success. And continues to run from it.

(And not just because his writing is better when he… avoids… success.)

I have fooled myself into believing I bring value to your life. Probably because you’ve brought so much into my own.

Yet, as last night’s dream demonstrated, I only bring more misery. And remind you of our miseries. Oh, and I bring trite platitudes.

Do I tell you what you want to hear? Or what you need to hear?

With me, as your navigator, will we drive off a bridge and into oblivion?

Yea. Probably.

I deserve to be alone. And you deserve better. Hell, you wouldn’t even be facing what you have to face if it wasn’t for me.

Yea. I deserve this immortality. Filled with vitriol. And solitude. And pain.

At least until I learn to be… better. And if you find… better… before that is a role I can fill, well, my dear, you deserve it all.

You deserve someone who isn’t (at least subconsciously) holding you (or both of us) back.

I believe in you. You’ve got this.