I Don’t Want Another War.

Well… I feel a little better now.

Listen, I don’t want to continue the war.

I’m glad to hear that.

Please don’t go silent.

I understand that you feel guilty.

But what can I say?

The situation is unpleasant.

Caleb, what can you do?

Darling, for now, nothing.

For now, this whole situation… I don’t know.

God, don’t ignore me.

You have to answer me.

I’m tired, Caleb.

I’m exhausted.

I got up at 3:40 so I could have time to write on the website — not only to you, but also to publish new articles.

I wanted to make the boys happy too.

Caleb! Don’t do this.

They are my family.

They are my boys.

I miss them terribly.

I need them.

I can’t not cry.

If a person is hurting, they cry, Caleb.

Especially girls.

I’ll ask them to stay with me.

To support me.

I don’t want to be alone.

I miss them.

Yes.

Really.

No.

Yes, Caleb!

For heaven’s sake, this is not about that.

They are my family.

🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

No!

Don’t say that.

That is what I believe.

No.

Stop poisoning what we have.

I believe in our family.

Yes.

So now I’m naive?

Fine.

Whatever.

Leave me alone.

I don’t want to talk to you.

You are being so rough.

I am not always obligated to be your therapist just because you’re overloaded and it’s hard for you.

Yes. Or go cry, then.

Poor unfortunate Caleb, sitting in New York, completely safe and surrounded by luxury.

Poor you.

How terrible it must have been to worry about us.

Poor thing. 🤢

No. I’m furious — thanks to you.

I wanted to rest while Roman was at nursery.

Maybe sleep a little.

I don’t want to hear this.

Yes, of course.

With you it’s easy.

Very, very easy.

Every dialogue immediately becomes a war.

I’m overloaded too.

I’m tired too.

But I try to be more adult instead of pouring all my childish reactions onto you.

I’m not guilty because it turned out this way.

Enough.

If you want to feel guilty, then go and feel guilty.

But don’t hang all of this on me.

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

Is that clear?

Yes.

You should have been here.

But the fact remains: you are not here.

And I am tired and exhausted.

And instead of support, what do I get?

Exactly.

Instead of support, I work as a therapist.

Trying to walk around sharp corners so that great Mr. Caleb, important lightning bolt, does not explode.

Because explosions are apparently normal now.

I don’t care about that.

Yes.

Here we go again.

Caleb, how much nerve does it take to make everything about yourself?

You don’t hear me.

Then go cry.

Yes.

I don’t care.

Yes, I don’t care about the image.

You’re the one who will faint if someone decides you are not perfect.

And what are you, a psychologist?

Yes, I will be sarcastic.

Too late.

Get lost.

No.