God, you're so blunt sometimes. When we're hammering out a song together and I do something you didn't want me to do and you're disproportionately disappointed with me and you start chastising me in that patronising tone of yours. When you make me feel like you're doubting whether we're still compatible as musicians. This time it was too much for me. I snapped. Just this one time I was absolutely done taking shit from you. Your high demands are insufferable to me sometimes - I'm insecure enough as it is. I called you a bastard, a jerk, a pathetic little tyrant. My tirade came to an abrupt stop when I saw tears welling up in your eyes. And for a moment I felt like punching you in the face for taking this one moment of righteous anger and triumphant insubordination away from me.
But that's not why I ran, Thom. I ran because if I'd stayed in that room with you and saw those tears making their way down your cheeks, I would've smothered you in kisses just to forget that I made you cry.
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