It takes me forever to blow up. Sure, you can get me angry – I'll say mean words I don't mean and I'll throw punches. It's because I don't know what else to do. It takes me forever to get really angry to the point where I just scream because I don't know how to say the words of anger and betrayal and to explain myself and say how sorry I am for failing you. Again.

You've spent your whole life taking care of me, watching over me, making sure I grow up 'right'. But what about you? You never really had someone to take care of you, to make sure you grew up 'right'. So that's what I'm trying to do, take care of you – even though we're far into life now. And I know; I'm failing. Everything I've ever done since I saw your face again was for you; to protect you, to make sure you were safe and healthy and good. And I've failed, every single time. I've trusted the wrong people and decided upon the wrong path and I've done things that looking back now I see were never for one single second, good. That's hindsight for you though. I'm sorry that I've failed you, after everything you've done for me I can't seem to do a single right thing for you. That carves into me like nothing has before. Even the deaths.

We've seen our fair share of pain and loss and sorrow. Our lives are filled with it. People close to us and people we barely knew. Pain and loss and sorrow litter our lives. And here, I've failed you again. Because I don't care anymore. I know I should but I don't. Because there's been so much, I don't feel much for it anymore. I know it's sad and I know I should care. I do but not enough for there to be tears, I think I ran out of tears years ago. Death has just made me numb. It's made me realize that this, what we have, is precious and that we should try and fill it with good memories, not regrets and pain and unspoken words for mistrusting each other.

So, I'm sorry.

For all that I've done.

For all that I've said and haven't said to you.

For the trust I didn't put into you.

I'm a slow burn. It takes a lot to set me off. And I think this is going to be my last burn. Let me go out in this last act to take care of you.