step: next

Those people can all go to hell. I don't know who's at fault, me or them. But I hate it. I hate it, I hate it. And I don't want to do it anymore. So I quit. I'm done. God, I'm sorry if that's what you're offering, I don't want it. I'd rather live with my realities than have them treated like that. Maybe these are just the quirks I need to embrace. And hopefully they won't take me with them. Please, help me somehow, but not like that. It's not right. It can't be. Not like that. Please.