I don’t think I’d survive very long in the wild. You see, my defense mechanism is slightly useless: I withdrawal. Yes, my great defense against the dangers and disappointments of the world is to turtle shell it. I wrap myself in a lie of apathy; all the while, I lick my wounds and scold myself for being wounded in the first place.
I do not want you to apologize, pity me, or follow me. I want you to go back in time and not hurt me. Barring miraculous time-travel mojo, however, this outcome is unlikely. So, instead, I want you to go away, not forever (most likely), but long enough. I want you to know you cannot fix me right when you want. I want you to know that what seems like a silly disappointment to you is simply one more to add to my collection. I want you to know I will be fine; I just need time to stew, wallow, and swim in my own head until I can once again emerge a rational, even-keeled adult.
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