You scare me when you're angry and you're angry all the time. When I get depressed, I hide it from you until I don't know how to hide it anymore. Then you come talk to me, and instead of asking me what's wrong, or telling me you're sorry I feel bad, you're just fucking mad. Like it's not okay for me to feel not okay. The only thing I can do to make you stop getting madder is to just lie and tell you I feel better, or else you'll be pissed at me all night. Like it's my fault, like I can just choose to feel okay. I'm a sensitive person, and somehow that's just offensive to you. I can't pretend I'm as rough-skinned and world-weary as you. I wanted you treat me like I was worth half a damn.

Do you know why I froze in the food line? It's because I started having a fucking panic attack. And your response was to immediately explode and start yelling. More than anything else, you *scared* me. I was frightened. I didn't know what to do. When I hesitate or do something slowly, it's because I know you'll be angry with me if I screw it up, even slightly, and I know that anger will persist through the entire day, even if we talk about it.

Instantly I knew that if I did anything except shut down, I would start panicking. I would start hyperventilating, or crying, and you would just keep getting madder as I lost myself in my head, and I would find a knife and start cutting myself, or I would walk out of the house and not come back for 6 hours, or I would just fall into bed in a heap and lie awake, shaking all night, terrified to open my mouth until the next day. And all of those things just make you madder. So I said no. I refused to think about the situation, I took my phone outside, and I hid inside my novel so that I wouldn't have to think about how awful the world was for a little while. And that's what you ended the relationship over: me taking the first step in a long time to ensuring my own sanity before I bent to your whim.

Not once did you *ever* come to me and tell me that it was okay, or ask what was wrong without an annoyed barb in your voice. Not once did you ever give me a hug when you could tell I was feeling bad, or pet my head and call me good girl. When we talked on the phone and I told you I wasn't having a good day, you would reassure me, and tell me that things would work out, and that you were there for me. When I told you that in person, you just got fucking mad.

I wanted a Master/pet relationship, but you could never be my Master. I need to be with someone who genuinely cares about my opinions and feelings as much as I care about theirs, not someone who's looking for a yes-man who will never speak out of turn. I want to be a pet but I want to be a fucking person too.

You're a jerk. You're fucking mean. You yell and slam doors like a goddamn child. Caring about your wellbeing was a huge mistake on my part, because you never gave a shit about mine, even though you think you did. I cared about you very much, and I tried very hard to cheer you up when you were down, because I wanted to see you happy. But you've never done that for me. I don't see any evidence that you ever learned to care about people other than yourself, as much as you like to think you put everyone else's needs first. I don't see any evidence for that at all. You're lying to yourself. You wanted me to be exactly the person you had in mind, and when I only knew how to be myself, you held it against me and took it as a personal slight. I made so many compromises with you, thinking that it was something that I had to do because we were such different people, but I never saw any in return from you. Not real compromises, that you wouldn't hang over my head later. As much as I tried to be caring, loving, sweet... you were never anything but a jerk. So goodbye forever, for real.