Why do you always do this to me? Every single time I manage to make myself somewhat happy, you appear out of nowhere and reduce me to a sobbing and pathetic wreck. Please don’t do that. Not now. It has been so hard getting to this point, feeling happy and content and enriched by stupid things like telly and tea and I can’t go back to that emptiness. I refuse. Please don’t do this again. Don’t make me cry. Please. It’s amazing how you can phone me up out of the blue and make my stomach lurch like that and have me feeling genuinely sick at the prospects of what you might do or say. If you have some big news, I don’t want to hear it. If you’ve come to some sort of conclusion about something, don’t think you need to discuss it with me. Idle small talk? Don’t ruin my week just for that. I am begging you. I just will not be able to cope. I’m sorry if this seems selfish but I have considered your feelings all day every day for two years and neglected my own. I didn’t try to make myself happy. It was supposed to be your job, only you weren’t interested in that role. I wish you were. A small part of me still wishes you were. A tiny part of me wants you back in my life still. But I’m moving on and there is a boy who is perfect, who thinks I’m perfect. Of course there are those niggles. But I can ignore those niggles if it means my happiness in the end. You coming into my life again after weeks of pretending that I didn’t exist is not something I would ever be able to take lightly. And not now. You phoning me will magnify all those doubts in my mind and I’m just not able for it. Why would you do this to me again? I just cannot deal with this, not when everything else is going so well. It kills me, but you will always outweigh ‘everything else’.