I’m glad everything is perfect.

I’m glad you found it justifiable to tell me the truth about how you feel.  

It’s not like I had ever asked or that you ever had previous opportunities to say your piece.  

Besides, I know it’s only because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings at the time.  Nor did you want me lingering about any longer than absolutely necessary.

Fuck my feelings now, though.  I crossed a line.

I should have been content with being allowed to apologize, and being told I wasn’t hated.

Eye for an eye, and all that.

I should be grateful even the smallest percentage of anything I’ve said was taken even halfway seriously.

My only suggestion would be to stop destroying things individually.  It would be much more efficient, and possibly satisfyingly cathartic, to just shove what remains in a box and set it ablaze.  Think of it as an effigy.

I understand, I deserve it, though I’m going to assume you still held back about 90% of your vitriol.

Best I get the message now while I still have a functioning set of legs.

I understand.

I’ve learned my lesson.

It’ll never happen again.