I am trying to have a quiet conversation with your television on the phone, but I can’t really hear what it is saying over your bitching and complaining. When will you realize that when there is nothing left but dead feelings, dead air is the most humane way to put us out of our misery? That just isn’t your style though. You want a trophy. You want to go out with guns blazing. You want a pound of flesh.You have to make sure that you are not the only one who has bled from this, but I died for you a long time ago. You just didn’t notice. Your behavioral patterns are as constant and predictable as the ones on the designer bags that you hold so dear to your heart. Maybe if I were covered with interlocking G’s or LV’s, I would have retained more of my initial value. Our emotional bruises rise and swell in magnificent black and blue hues. They have been painted and stained on our hearts, as if they were made of canvas.  All I can say is we should both take a good look inside of ourselves and smile at the fucking masterpiece we have created. Be proud.