The first time you needed help, I helped you.
And you thanked me.
But when I needed help, where were you?
“I’m busy,” you said.
Busy.
I got through it on my own, but it hurt. A lot.
You live, you learn.
And you remember these things.
Now you’re back, all bloody and begging for help again.
No.
Don’t spit in my face and tell me it’s a long-distance kiss, baby.
I know the difference.
And you know the difference.
It takes a lot of strength to put the past behind us.
I slowly close the door, and whisper “Goodbye.”