Friends.

I cannot say but that I'm quite upset, not that I expect anyone to care. I'll have to live with that as I have done all this time.

I cannot help but feel I'm set up to fail, a kangaroo court condemning on the base of nothing at all.

When I make my decisions, I can always say they are my own. No matter what my friends will say. They are my friends because they will not question my judgement.

Those are friends. They do not question me for a minute, even when they see me turn my back on the work we did together, to what others would call a wild goose chase. You saw one sticking her neck out for me. Those are friends.

I do not blame anyone. I regret that slip of the keyboard. If you ever deign to speak to me, and point out where I hurt you, I'll be more than happy to look into it. Your decisions are important to me.

That does not exclude my right to express myself here. I shall never hurt you.

If you feel pain on reading, it would be pain of not seeing your friend. Or it might be of not listening to all sides before calling a decision.

I'm heartbroken. What do you expect? It's almost a year now. A year of horrid minutes of absence, with the prospect of many more to come.

I'll still be waiting by that railway station, if you ever want to hear me out.

Do not worry, a bit longer and I will be out. Only seven hours.

You do not have to wait that long, though I made clear that I'd want to hear directly from you. My friends also tell me to forget you, but I decide and they abide.

It's just my life, after all. And they respect my feelings without trying to do a psych assessment.