The Taming from the Shrew

I need a drink. I've always said that people who say this are needy impossible beings but I do. A drink.

Exhausted and frustrated and have no one else to blame but myself. Have you ever pulled and pulled and pulled and have gotten nowhere? This isn't fair to me. I have fantasies of me doing the right thing, walking off without a note goodbye. Leaving without anything to say other than a possible, "too bad." But I never do it. The problem is mine entirely and I'm too used to this issue. Call me dramatic but see me for what I am, the little girl who created an entirely imaginary world to get away from the cold realities.

Don't break this world and leave me standing here, Chrissy. You've taken it all away and if you keep going and leaving me with nothing, really, I have nothing.

Nothing.

I can get over thius like I did the others, I just keep going, I'm good at leaving and going, going, going until it just doesn't matter anymore. When I want something enough I take it. I've beat death, I've beat Shanghai, and I can beat this.

So you tell me when to give up.