i needed an
answer.
you had
none to give.
not of
spite or want to
hurt.
it simply wasn't
possible to answer.
it was
information you lacked. nothing more.
but i would not listen.
simple as that.
i didn't listen.
you couldn't answer. i couldn't wait.
i pushed.
you resented that push. and rightly.
i didn't care. i pushed more.
i didn't *mean* to.
i just needed to know.
needed to know, to know what type of hurt i would take the next four years.
i needed to know...
...as badly as you needed the time i stole.
i finally... pushed too much.
you, for need of safety and of peace, answered.
an answer you didn't know you knew.
the answer that would have been there...
in the end...
the same one.
the answer i forced from you.
if i'd waited...
you'd have given it.
on your own.
you'd have given it gladly.
(once YOU knew it, that is)
you'd have GIVEN it.
instead, i stole it.
stole what you would have given.
as a gift.
instead it became a sacrifice
a blood-offering
to appease my unholy appetite of wrath and pain.
i stole it.
stole a gift.
i defiled it.
i warped the thing that should have been beauty into merely defense.
i'm sorry.
i love you.