I've played a whore and a mistress.
I've done lying, hypocrisy and telling on.
All that's left is to be a damsel in distress.
Maybe if I'd done that earlier, you wouldn't have to leave.
When bad things happen, you always think you might have averted them if you'd been a better person.
Where did that kind of primitive logic originate from?
I'm not quite sure why the anger is directed at you. You're just as much torn at having to go, as I am. But hell. I never asked to be here, and I never asked to belong to you.
You were too young to settle down, and now you're too young to die as well.