My fault, really?

I don’t deal with emotional stuff well.

Life has taught me not to dwell.

Crap happens. Move on.

Who cares if you got your feelings hurt? Be done.

‘Oh, you got your little feelings hurt?’ Overrated.

Moot, overrated, antiquated.

I hear you. Don’t care.

You’re the one with the problem, do you dare?

So I share. This is why I reacted that way.

What you said to me reads as it’s all my fault. No more words will I say.

I have boundaries I wish not to be crossed.

Aside, those you wish to toss.

Go ahead and blame me if you need to.

I have broad shoulders. Do what you need to.

Someday don’t miss me and come crawling back.

I may be so far gone, there is no slack.

The ties that bind may be so frayed and worn.

Too much damage. So torn.

Blood is thicker than water, not!

At least emotionally, it is wroth.

What you’ve said to me is that my emotions aren’t valid.

We can’t talk without you tossing names like a salad.

Your choice. Here’s mine.

Let it go or we shall not dine.

Take your half baked apology and shove it up your $&@.

You sure do have a set of brass.