The Response

You know, I had the perfect begging response to this all planned out, but I've changed my mind. I don't want to play this game with you--I've played it more times already than most people play it in their whole lives. I refuse to beg; I refuse to accept your criticism. If you don't like who I am, deal with it. If you want to ignore all of the times I have talked to you because I am over-flowing with joy, so be it. If you want to deny that maybe you had a hand in this, go ahead. I was told that in these situations I should treat the recipient like a child, but I will not. You're not a child; I will not bow to your every whim; I will not apologize for figuring myself out; I will not apologize for failing to wear a happy mask every time we speak; I will not apologize for showing you what you were signing up for when you dared to sit next to me on that bus so many years ago, when you dared to call me friend. If you want to cut and run because you've finally noticed that I'm a pessimist, I'll just let you know that this semester was better than the last, both of which were better than freshman year of high school (when you first met me, remember?), and let you walk away. I want you to know that this is on you now. I refuse to feel bad about this.

I refuse to beg.