You know, until I decided to end it, that I hadn't planned this. You know from things I'd said -- things I remember saying, and meant at the time -- that I thought it would last -- not forever, but indefinitely. And I wanted that to be true and it was, for a bit. But you also should know -- because I told you -- what I need, in order to justify to myself -- yes my friends, but mostly myself, most importantly myself -- being with you, and that thing is -- what do you call it? Affection? Caring? Love? I don't want forever, or promises of such, but I need "I want you with me tomorrow," and you've never given that. You probably can't, because of all your past baggage, and sure that's bullshit and you ought to get over it, but I also can't fix you if you don't want fixing, and I can't stick around if you don't want me. And the most you've ever been able to admit is that you like what you get when I'm around, and that's not wanting me.
Sorry, boy. I am so terribly sorry that this couldn't be more, for both of our sakes. Thank you for the time and the dancing and the education.
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