With sadness on my end. With possible indifference on yours. With me wishing I could take everything back, yet fearing what else I may be capable of saying. Knowing this is best for you. Hoping it's best for me. Knowing I will live through it, but wanting to sleep until I get to that point. Weary of your unkindness, of my unkindness, of man's inhumanity to man, of the cruel cliche that is hurting the ones we claim to love.