I try to tell you everything calmly. That has never worked well, though. You would think I would have learned. You react to my honest confessions with that "I've heard it all before" attitude.
I want to shake the smug pretention out of your palatte of emotion. Grab you on the shoulders and just scream, "FEEL!!" and penetrate the stony facade. You would laugh, I think, and say something that comes so scripted. An actor in your own life. How sad that you never let yourself be consumed by someone else's love for you. To view giving all as a weakness and compromise as a surrender. How empty that you could never find the pure pleasure of making the one you love smile. That completely selfless acts strike you as sappy. I haven't let you harden me yet. In a way, I am glad I can still cry over you. It means I still love you sometimes. It means I hate you even more at others. But it means I am still myself. It reminds me I am human and flawed. I try to tell you that is what life IS.