I’d like to apologise. I didn’t mean to be harsh to you, I didn’t do it on purpose, I actually don’t even realise it when I do it. I still don’t know exactly what it is I told you that you didn’t care for, but it doesn’t matter. You know I didn’t mean it, you said so yourself. I don’t mean to be harsh to anybody, but apparently I do and I guess I can’t really help it.

What you told me the other night was a little awkward though. It’s true I’m going through quite a rough patch, you have no idea how much so. Except, it turns out you do have an idea. What sounds a little weird to me is that you have an idea, you noticed, you know and still you did absolutely nothing about it. Truth be told, it’s not weird: it hurts. All of it hurts, so much I wanted to cry. Maybe you read that too, maybe not.

If you cared enough to look so closely to discover this, you know more about me than you should, more than other people know. I guess I was right after all, I can see through you because in some way we are so similar, apparently you can do the same. But if you have looked this closely, whatever your motives, you must know I am not the person to lay out all of myself in plain sight for anybody to see. You know how much I like to keep things private, you know how I keep my guard up, how I don’t let people in, how I still keep a wall around me, when I want to. You know, because you do too. So did you really not think you were violating me and my secrets by spitting it all out in front of everybody else? I don’t care if they heard, I don’t care if they know, I don’t care about them. I care about you, but you don’t know that. I care about how little you seemed to care about me being happy or unhappy about what you were telling me. You deliberately took a pick and destroyed my wall. You shouldn’t have dared do that, not that way, not to me, not without my consent.

So you claimed the right to expose me, but I don’t see the point in that. Is that the way you talk to a friend? I would have done that in private. Were you drunk? I don’t think so. Were you trying to impress someone else? God I hope not or I swear I’ll kick you so hard you are going to forget your own name. What were you really trying to tell me? That you have been looking out for me? Because really you haven’t. I was so astounded while I was listening to you, I didn’t really put together the pieces. I still haven’t by the way. I picked up single words here and there and tried to organise the kaleidoscope shapes of feelings they caused in me. I guess I should feel happy knowing that you cared enough to see I was in pain, to notice the change in me, even through the ever so little time we normally share. Truth is, it hurts even more. Because through all of my sadness and anger I wanted nothing more than sitting down and talking to you about it. If you knew, if you always saw, why the hell have you never laid out a hand for me? Never once have you asked if something was wrong, if you could do something for me, even just talk about it. Never. So why do you want me to know that you are aware? Please just don’t tell me you wanted to respect my privacy or you would have respected it the other night too and you would have kept your mouth shut.

And then you go and point out that you’re nobody in my life, that you occupy the most marginal of positions. And there I was agape gazing at you with incredulous wide eyes. You know nothing, John Snow, and you will never learn. Because I can’t tell you, I can’t say any of this, I am not even sure I can address any aspect of this matter without revealing clearly to your face everything you mean to me. There is no way I can tell you how, especially when you saw me so sad and desperate, you were the very centre of my world, how you have been the catalyst to the greatest and deepest change in my life I have ever experienced, no way I can let you know what a surprise it was to me to see you cared enough to notice, no way I can show you what a huge impact this simple conversation had on me.

So what, are you trying to tell me you are sorry I am in this situation? Thank you, but that’s not the way. Why did you have to bring it up at any cost? I wasn’t talking about this, you twisted what I was saying into what you wanted to hear. Does it upset you? Sure as hell it upset me listening to it, so out of the blue. Would you prefer to be rid of it so I can do even better, are you making this a professional thing? Don’t you dare… I can’t separate the two, private and professional, because there is no private between us. I am forced to keep it that way and I thought you wanted to keep it that way. Then you go shooting your stray arrows and I just can’t seem to begin to understand the long and the short of it. It’s just like when you complimented me about my eyes. You speak out of turn for mysterious and out-of-nowhere motives. See, I don’t care how many bitches buzz around you, I am not jealous, you can do whatever the fuck you want with them, but you have to learn to navigate around me or we are going to have a problem. “It’s you and me and it’s here and now”.  If this professional thing has to keep working and you bet it does, because I am your best pupil and you know it too, I need to be able to trust you. You pull one of your incomprehensible stunts again, I’m not sure I can keep this up. I don’t even know if I can keep it up now, after this, if I don’t at least try to talk to you about it. And sure it would look like a blacked out FBI file, missing all the sensitive need-to-know details. Did you just want to prove that you are so good with people and even though I keep to myself you win by seeing through the armour? Kudos, you were supposed to enjoy peeping through the hole instead you managed to rip the whole thing apart.

Do you want to let me know you care? Be there for me, for real.

Otherwise, just stay away. Please.

I am seriously considering the possibility to change his pseudonym to Sniper.