I’m fighting my own battles here. I’m pretty busy in hand-to-hand combat with myself, and you may not know this, but I’m a formidable fighter. I know my opponent’s weaknesses. You happen to be one of them.
We’re locked in a struggle. I’m not talking about you and me. I’m talking about me and me.
You are just an agitator.
You aren’t a fighter, but every time you call you manage to re-arm all the doubts I’m warring against, the ones that say I’m not worth the fight. And you don’t. You don’t fight with me, and you sure as hell don’t fight for me.
So how’s that tower working out for you?
How’s the view?
I used to look up all the time and wonder if you’re actually just trapped and waiting to be rescued. I wanted to do that for you. I hoped you would leave the tower and start fighting next to me. But you’re just sitting there, making calls, throwing hand grenades out the window. You’re just an agitator.
Can’t you see I’m trying to build something here?
I’m trying to make my peace.
So don’t call.
I don’t need you to tell me about the world anymore. I read the comments section of the newspaper, I don’t need yours. I did need you, but you were in your tower, so I’ve moved on.
Here’s your hand grenade back.