Yeah, you get stupid and yell at me for not wanting to try tuna and not liking it when I did (and yes, I'm fucking oversimplifying that, and yes I know that there is honestly a lot more to it than that). And I do what you want me to do, which is say, "Do you want to get upset about this, or calm down" etc etc etc. Yeah, but you don't respond so well.
And okay fine. I walk into the bedroom. Sit here a little while. You walk in and yeah you are coming in essentially to apologize, to prove your point but yes to apologize.
And what do I do? I make you angry on purpose. I pick at you. I take every trick in the book that I have just to upset you. And it works. And fighting ensues. And yeah, I realize that's my fault, honestly and truly. Not in a guilt-ridden way. I did that consciously, on purpose.
The thing that I'm realizing is, it seems like... I am trying to anger you when you are trying. Just as you hurt me all the times I was trying so hard myself. I am jaded, and I want us to be even. I want to have the upper hand here. I don't want to be the one who has had to deal with everything. I want you to have to feel as much pain as I have through this.
Dear God. And I sit there and I say, I want you to change this and be like this and god everything will be better.
And that is how I react.
That is how I react.
I am worse than you are. That is for sure.