Why did you have to do that? Why did you have to ruin a perfectly normal, fun conversation by bringing out that animal in you? When I’ve told myself, literally coached myself not to think of it, over months, years? Why can’t you maintain a semblance of normalcy like I maintain about you in front of the world? Why do you have to open up old wounds? Tonight not only did you do that, you added to them. You told me of that which I did not know till now. Of worse things that have been, of me, about me, on me. You made me despise the love that had slowly erupted for you, woven string by heavy string, over an injury that can never be healed. Why did you have to put it all to waste? Why?