well, uh

On the bright side, this has to be Bryce Dessner's most moving, beautiful, and cleansing composition yet.

On the slightly more shaded side, it definitely cleansed me. Of any passion-fueled worries that might have birthed a greater monologue to recite to you tomorrow when we meet to "talk."

Because I didn't expect you to reply. And I didn't expect you to want to talk.

And I expected to still be hurting.

What am I supposed to say now?

Apologize? Profusely? Say I was in the wrong?

Well, I was.

There.

Fuck. What am I supposed to do now?

All I know is you don't want to wait for me to make up my mind, so I won't makee you wait.