picking scabs ...

"why did you say you missed me?"

"you can miss people without wanting them back in your life. you know, things aren't always the way that you think. did it occur to you that maybe i don't want to sleep with you again?"

"really? you so want to fuck me. don't pretend. you think i don't feel your eyes drop straight down to my ass the second i turn around? or do you just think that you pull them back up before i notice? either way, you are quite naive."

"it's not like that. so what, you are fucking hot. that doesn't mean a lot more than just that. you broke my heart. i don't want your pain. i just miss you."

"i broke your heart? do you even know how much you touch people? do you even have a clue of the roller coaster you took me on? i have seen you look at me like i am a goddess, and i have seen you look at me like i am the dog that just killed your cat.

"look, i miss you too. it's not like that. and i think i still want you in my life. but it seems like you still have a lot of anger toward me. and it's that anger that i have never been able to ... take ... or understand ... or something. i want you to look at me like i am that goddess. but i can't take the rest."

"but that's who i am. i am volatile. and so are you. that's what makes us what we are. and what we are is special."

"i don't want to be special anymore."