"....why?" I ask, then quickly clarify. "Not the last thing, the first thing, the wanting me to stay thing. I'll tone down the jerkiness, I just. I really don't get it, I'm sorry."

I'm saying that a lot. Sorry. It used to be my favorite word. Kinda fell out of favor, recently, but maybe it's making a surprise comeback. Because I actually mean it. I am sorry that I'm apparently such a failure of a human being that I can't handle someone being nice to me for no reason without finding it suspect. I press two fingers to my forehead and smooth out the furrow in my brow, swallowing back some emotion I'd rather not name, let alone deal with. I let out a slow, shaky breath.

"God, I'm a mess."