I surrender.
I wave the white flag.
I have defended my actions, you still shoot me down.
Nothing is ever right for you.
Nothing I do, is ever right.
I’ve thrown my hands up.
I’m out.
I’m done.
I’m sorry it has come to this.
I really am.
But, I don’t need to be treated like this, when I can’t keep up with you.
I have tried to be understanding, to be compassionate, but each time I reach out, you pull further away.
And somehow, that is still my fault.
You have my number.
When you grow up.
Call me.
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