You scare me when you're angry and you're angry all the time. I'm a sensitive person and you never learned how to care for people like that, or maybe anyone at all. 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.

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 be 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.

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.