People get worked up over things that make them cry, stay up at night and fight their eyes in order to keep themselves awake. Then they say, they've given up, on everything, on you. It shatters your world more than it does theirs. You're then the one getting worked up over everything, staying up late and fighting the demons in your head. And what for? What's the cost? Another sleepless night, another extra shot in your coffee, another reason to call in sick? Why bother. They didn't bother to say sorry, anyway.
— Something I wrote