*** Disclaimer: It all belongs to Fox, not to me. *** I am so fucking sick of those words. Why won’t you talk to me? Why do you hide from me inside yourself? You think that by denying your pain you will absolve me of my guilt? My guilt is more powerful than your good intentions. Don’t you think I know? I know what it is like to be alone. To have no one. I know how you feel, and it’s not fine. For either of us. It is miserable and painful and lonely and everything but fine. What do you think would happen if you didn’t say those two words? If you said something else? If you screamed and raged? I would welcome your rage. Don’t you know that I would like nothing better than to hold you and tell all the things I‘ve kept locked away all these years. Don’t you know that I would sell my soul to hear you tell me that you need me. No, you don’t know. Because I never told you. You say you are fine, and I say nothing. And it is killing us; this poison that comes dressed in the familiar robes of “fine” and in the guise of my silent adoration.