I was seriously pissed. A little bit of worry may have blotched that felonious anger, but seriously, i was pissed! SIX WEEKS. OK, OK, OK. So you have responsibilities: friends, neighbors, jobs, mothers and fathers (sometimes two of the same sex) you have to deal with. You have to spread yourselves thin from time to time under pressure from your adoring community; I understand.
This can’t fly though. I wanna know where you’ve been, who you’ve been talking to. Sometimes, I just, I just get so damn worried. I begin to think you might not come back. And I may not be able to hold your glossy technicolour, Sonny Wong-blasted cover ever again.
You know, you didn’t really tell me it was going to be like this. I want answers. I love you, and need you … forever … and you’re pissing me off when you’re whoring around Humboldt without the fear of god and sanctity of dedication in you. You’re cutting it awfully close. You might just lose me. I love you. I’m just saying … be consistent. P.S. Sorry for calling all of your family and friends and your boss … and your exes. I’m also sorry … while you were away, I slept with a homeless guy in Arcata behind Don’s. I was trying to get back at you … and I’m sorry; I was drunk.