Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, they did.

I thought I have told you once, I am not going to repeat myself.
That point of time it seemed to me as if you have understood clearly how hard it is for me to admit things that I will never, in a million years, succumb to. How imbecile you made me feel to admit. Let alone cried in front of you. That night I will not forget.

But.

Here you go again.

I know I have no rights in this, at all. But if you have to, if you really have to, can you not at least tell me first. I am not asking you to ask for my permission. But doing this behind my back, eventhough you know well how I make my occasional perusal, is like stating obviously how you care not about my thoughts.

I'm sorry if I am not what you expected,
most of all I'm sorry if I am less than you deserve.




We are adults now. We have move passed this. We should do better.
I should be better.