I started. “What’s not enough for you, George? The fact that I carry my phone around wherever I go, to see if you send me a message, a text, call me, give me sign of life? That I sit up and wait at the kitchen table with your favorite meal cooked almost every single night even when you still fail to come home? That I fall asleep with my phone on my chest or in my hand because I want to feel the vibration of your message or the ringing of the phone? The fact that my phone is the closest I’ll ever be to you and that I’ve come to love it more than you? Or is it the fact that I stay up all night and all day to give you everything?” I breathed. Then continued.
“Tell me, is that enough for you? Because frankly I’ve given you every damn bit of me, George. I’ve given you every single part of me and yet you still seem to feel that it isn’t enough. Is anything ever going to be enough for you? You’re tearing me apart, bit by bit. Like an empty sheet of paper, I’ve become the torn up pieces lying on the floor that you walk all over and never care to pick up. And I swear, the day you finally chose to pick them up, clean up your terrible mess all over our floor, it’s going to be too late. Because when that day comes, George, everything will mean nothing at all and I’ll have moved on. I’ll have moved on and glued myself together without your help, and without you.”