Lumps formed in my throat as I read your message. In an instant I couldn't go back to work; shortness of breath, I waver.

It was indeed my fault. I know, I was rude. I should have ended the conversation as calmly as possible, but you still won't understand. You never will.

You do realize that we both live in opposite sides of the earth. Your free hours are not my vacancies, especially now that work's too much and I can't get the hell out of it. I can't have breaks as you tell me to do so. I have a strict schedule to follow. Still I try to find time, even for a second, to hear your voice and make up for every day that we're apart, and that's only at twelve o' clock on work days. Inasmuch as I'd like to have long conversations, my one-hour break isn't enough.

What pisses me off is I can't blame you. I can never blame you. This situation's gone far beyond my reach.

Pride is never my game. You really know my weakness. But I've gone tired of threats. Your threats are never tests of how much I love you. I only need you to understand.

I give in again.