I just wanna run.

It's not hard to see. Or at least not to me. It's spiteful and disrespectful. It's calculated and planned. Every move I make is a test on them. To test their words. Their shallow speech. To remind myself that money and sweet moments aren't what makes a relationship, even one bound by blood. If you could love me when I'm ugly, love me when I dumb, love me when I am cranky and violent and when I have lost my will to live. If you could love me even if I smoked pot every day or wasn't perfect, that'd be great. But you can only love me when you have time. When you aren't needed elsewhere. When I am perfect. When I'm not putting periods at incorrect places and behaving irrationally. I will keep leaving town and keep being gone and keep putting you aside until I find a better way to articulate my resentment. I am sorry.