"Fuck you and your book, and your slippers, too! Take them all and get out of my house!!!"
Suddenly it had all become hers, and I was doing all this to her. As if I was just a stationary object that had been inconveniently place in her way, a burden. As if nothing whatsoever had been happening to me. I hadn't already been through everything. I had faced down my old, own demons.
I'd just chose to share them with her, after the fact. I thought that the burden would somehow be shifted, or lifted, or dealt with in a way that may save me, or both of us, from something so much more than either of us ever imagined.
This was too much for either of us to ever recover from. It could take years.
It had been months already and he still hadn't let her touch him. Not truly, not at the intimate level that would ever mean anything at all. He felt that intimacy would never really be there again, ever, Even if he wanted it. He had laid his soul bare, there with her, and she was nothing but furious.
He had no one to blame but his poor, pathetic, lonesome self.
Twas a pity. Their walls were built up much stronger than they had been before, against no deserving party.
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