not ready, not going to be ready
It's so easy to think about you and become furious. And you're still there looking at me like I'm being petty, I'm being the unfair mean one. Oh, yes, you did everything you could. What a great friend you are.
OH I AM SO ANGRY. I kept it in so well today when you told me how sad you were that I wouldn't unblock you. So well. If I get through the next two weeks without telling you to go fuck yourself, let's chalk it up again to my impeccably good breeding because there is no other explanation for how someone as short-tempered as I am has managed to get this far without violence.
Part of this spiral of hatred and anger comes from the worry? disgust? that I'd throw myself back into you if you showed for a moment that I could. I won't and you won't, or at least I'll hold this in as tightly as I can, too, but I'm so frustrated and disappointed and repulsed and angry at you at you at you and god I'm finally getting away.
Not now is starting to feel like not in a million years but I am equal parts angry and shattered.