I had opted to be quiet. I had nothing nice to say. why be hurtful? Imagine how I felt when you spewed all the venom I held back right at me . If your goal was to constantly frustrate me, you win. I can't fucking find you. I've come to learn that you know how to torture me like the best of them.
“And then black night. The blackness was sublime.
I felt distributed through space and time:
One foot upon a mountaintop, one hand
Under the pebbles of a panting strand,
One ear in Italy, one eye in Spain,
In caves, my blood, and in the stars, my brain.”
Canto Two, Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov/ reluctantly subject to your disposal...