If you are not happy about me, please just tell it to my face. Not because I want a fight, not because I know you will not, but because I know I can make you understand if you do. I only visit your blog occasionally to check that you're still doing well and fine, so imagine my delight when I read about your almighty opinions. I have officially lost interest in dealing with your tantrums.
To you, they may very well be only words of at-the-moment resentment, but I found them very hurtful and insensitive. I explained myself in the email because I felt like I owed you that much at the very least. It wasn't to make myself seem less irresponsible. Do you have the slightest hint how difficult it was for me to disclose such personal information to people whom I am not close to at all? If I could relive the day, even after reading everything you wrote about me and knowing all the things people might be thinking about me, I would make the same decision over and over again.
By being there, I don't know how much it meant to her because she was never strong enough to tell me, but I know how much it means to me, to know that it might mean something to her. It's a mouthful, but I stand by it, word for word for word.
Word of advice: You would not be thinking I was talking about you if you weren't talking about me, so save whatever denial you have carefully scripted.
I am so sick of your pompous attitude.
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