The inability to talk

I lit my cigarrete. I have no idea what I'm gonna say, what I'm gonna do.
F*ck you.
I'm scared. I'm scared of the past, of the future; even the present scares me.
I do not  want to bother you with that. Why would I do it? What would you do?
All I can say is, "where the hell do you put our plans? our fucking plans?"
I'm not sure if you've ever dreamt the same dream which I've always dreamt. I'm not judging you for what you want, I just really angry at you to get me by your side at this point.
I mean, "what's the point? What is your F*CKING point?! Do you have one at least?"
I'm unhappy. I'm really unhappy. I've always wanted to be with you, and now I find you disgusting. I'm really sad to admit it.

I've been thinking of these things, of the truths... and I cannot talk to you. I'm not able to tell you this because you're happy with this life and at this point I know I really do care about you, but I'm falling myself apart. We have to talk.

He said, "Hi, honey! Is everything okay? You have sounded strange when you send me that message text."
"I'm not okay. I've not been okay since we're got this point at our lives. What the fuck are we doing with our lives. We're not like that. At least, I am not."
Sebastian said confused, "Um... what are you talking about?"
"You do really know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about myself. How I'm getting really crazy because of it."
"I am not following."
"Sebastian, we do not love each other. In fact, I do not like you at all."

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