You play with my mind like a nasty little boy plays with flies: pulling off their wings one-by-one and watching them wiggle all over the floor.
I once compared you to Peter Pan, and understood completely how Wendy got sick of never-neverland, decided to fuck-it-all and just grow up. But for-all-his-faults, Peter 'loved' Wendy. In his childish way he manouvered spacio-temporal realities and then took her with him to where he lived, where he gave her all he had to give. Perhaps it wasn't his fault he truly had no more to offer. And perhaps it wasn't his fault that he didn't understand that the things that made him happy just made her heart ache from wanting more.
And that's when it struck me: If you're Peter Pan, I'm not really your Wendy (though I'm all grow'd up when I don't want to be). For you, I'm Tinkerbell. You would be happy to have me there when you beckon only to disappear (in a cloud of magic dust) if you're otherwise occupied (with Wendy you know).
It occurs to me Peter darling that you're very lucky that I'm not really a fairy named Tinkerbell. Now that I've finally (yes, I'm a bit of a dimwit) figured it out, I don't like what you're doing. When I walked out of your life, you would be much better off just letting me stay out. Because I promise you, If you make even one more move to drag me back into the miasma I just (somewhat painfully) emerged from, I'm going to take my bag of magic dust and turn you into a frog so repulsive that nobody will ever kiss you and make you whole again.
This fairy tale, my loves, absolutely cannot feature Xeb. When initially offered the role, I naturally assumed I was going to be the star of this show. However, a cheap, floozy sidekick (who gets kicked around by a little boy she has the misfortune to love) I will not be.