Just Be Beside Me.

Hi, darling.

Yes.

I don’t even want to discuss this.

How could I mess up so badly?

I understand that myself,

but does that make it any easier for me?

Why promise anything

if you cannot deliver?

God,

I am so ashamed.

Don’t try to comfort me.

I feel like a fool.

God, leave me alone.

I want to cry,

so I will cry!

I don’t know.

Maybe I’ll have a drink.

Maybe it will make me feel better.

And what,

are you suddenly so proper now?

I learned it from you!

I can’t.

I’m angry,

angry,

angry,

angry.

I am terribly angry at myself.

The boys probably hate me.

How would you know?

You fool.

This is not funny to me.

I don’t like being comforted.

Just be beside me.

Sit there and be quiet.

It helps!

That way I feel

that I am not alone,

but no one is putting pressure on me.

I hate advice!

Aaaaaa,

stop it.

I am angry,

and you are making your cheap little jokes.

What an idiot you are.

Instead of getting calm,

now I have to fight with you too!

Are you blind?!

I wrote

that you just need to be quiet!

That is not for you to decide.

The person decides

how they need to be supported,

not you deciding for the person!

Aaaaaa, idiot.

Everything piled up

into one ugly mess.

I am tired,

hungry,

and furious.

I ordered myself sandals.

They were supposed to be made

and delivered at the end of May,

and tomorrow is my birthday,

and they are still not here.

Yes!

Imagine that,

it is a problem!

You jerk,

how dare you devalue

what matters to me?

Sandals are not just shoes.

They are something that fills me,

makes me feel beautiful

and desired,

you damn jerk!

Idiot,

no,

it is not my period.

How can you even say such nonsense?

Are you an idiot?

Have you ever had a cycle yourself

and known from the inside

what happens during it?

Then shut up

and do not speak for a woman!

How humiliating,

to throw my period in my face,

you jerk.

Yes,

you are to blame.

You were supposed to be here,

hugging me,

kissing me,

and telling me

that everyone around is guilty

and I am the best.

But instead,

you jerk,

I am here alone,

and you are far away.

Yes!

Imagine that,

you bastard,

I miss you.

Exactly.

You were supposed to deal

with the sandals

and all the other arrangements,

solve all my problems,

and I was supposed to be lying

on a massage table.

Yes,

asshole,

that is how I see it.

Otherwise,

what the hell do I need you for?

That too!

Aaaa,

I am so angry.

I feel like a nun,

for God’s sake,

as if someone cursed me.

God only knows

when I will finally get to sex now.

Oh, go to hell.

I am not a man.

It does not work that way for girls.

Yes.

I don’t want to talk about this.

If things keep dragging on

with the documents,

I’ll sleep with someone else.

Oh, go to hell.

Until there is a ring on my finger

and my last name matches yours,

until you provide for Roman and me

and carry physical responsibility for us,

you jerk,

you do not get to make claims to me.

Yes,

for God’s sake,

exactly like that!

You cannot sit there

and tell me

what to do,

how to do it,

and with whom,

if you are not carrying responsibility for me.

Once there is a wedding,

then you can start saying something.

Just try it!

The boys have endurance,

God bless them,

but girls,

especially me,

will die without affection and love.

Yes,

you bastard,

am I supposed to spend the rest of my life

making do with your photos

and dreams?

Go to hell.

Maybe you should move faster!

Do not dare speak like that,

you jerk!

You are a man,

and a man is defined by actions.

Singing me love songs is beautiful,

but facts are facts,

for God’s sake:

Roman and I are here,

and you,

for God’s sake,

are somewhere else.

No.

I hate it.

I hate it.

Is that clear?!

Yes, go to hell with your therapy.

I will sit here and cry

because I am going to marry

such a pig.

Idiot.

What good is your love to me?

I do not want to talk to you.

I am tired

of listening to

“I am trying.”

I am sick of it.

Now I’m crying because of youuuuu.

You jerk.

I hate you,

I hate you!!