Where do you get off? Always talking down to me, treating me like a little kid. Well maybe I wouldn’t have to act like a little kid if you stopped treating me like a little kid. Well maybe you should stop treating me like a little kid first, because I’m already acting like one, so why would I all of the sudden start acting like a grown-up? You treat me like an adult and maybe I’ll start acting like one. Maybe.

Well, looks like that didn’t work out for you did it? You shouldn’t have caved in. You’re never supposed to meet the demands of a child. Now I’m going to act like more of a little kid than ever. That’s all I’ve learned. I learned that you don’t have a backbone, that you fold real easy. That you couldn’t even win in an argument against a grown man acting like a little kid. And I’m just going to keep acting like a little kid whenever I don’t get my way. Because you set the precedent here. I would’ve given up eventually. I can’t believe you fell for that.

And now I’m going to act even more childish. I’m going to start acting like a huge baby. Literally. Just try starting something with me. Just try arguing. I’m going to start screaming, loud. I don’t care if we’re in the grocery store. Sure, people are going to look at me like I’m crazy, but they’re also going to look at you like you’re even crazier, for walking around with me, for putting up with this nonsense. Go ahead and try to walk away, I’ll just follow you. You know I’m faster than you. Where are you going to go? I’m the one who drove here. No way am I giving you the keys.

I can’t believe that worked also. You’re really not getting this are you? You never meet the demands of a little baby. You wait them out. Tantrum energy is not in infinite supply here. How long do you think I could have kept up that level of screaming? Did you even hear me? My throat’s actually hurting from all of those theatrics. And then the running, the chasing after you. You expected me to be able to not only keep up with your running, but to also keep screaming the whole time? That’s pretty shortsighted of you, a quick fix, a fleeting moment of peace, at best.

And where did it get you? Now you’re even worse off then before. Your life is going to get so much more terrible, you, doing everything that I say, me, throwing a ridiculous baby screaming temper tantrum anytime I so much as think that you’re about to do something to disagree with me. You’re stuck. And it’s going to keep coming. Whereas at the grocery store at least I gave you a build up, I pouted around for a little bit, stamped my feet, started throwing cereal boxes off the shelf at you, hitting you, so you had to pick them up, so even though you weren’t the one throwing anything, when the manager came over to kick us out, you were right there, surrounded by all of those cereal boxes, crushed up bits of cereal everywhere.

Was it worth it? You should have let the police come like he threatened. Although at this point it probably wouldn’t have helped. I know just what buttons to push. I know that sooner or later, definitely sooner, you’re going to cave, that you’re weak, that you’ve got no backbone. I would’ve started lying to the cops, telling them that you’re abusive, that I’m locked in an abusive relationship. I can cry on cue. I’m very convincing. Just don’t push it. I mean, you shouldn’t have caved, but it’s your fault for indulging me way back when I was acting like a little kid the first time around.

And now it’s at a whole new weird level. We’re stuck together. Anytime you try to sneak away or leave I just start threatening to walk into oncoming traffic, like a little crazy person, and you have to watch me because you’re too scared that I’ll get hit by a car. Because will I take it to that level? Sure. Maybe I will get hit. And what if I die, are you going to be able to live with yourself? Are you going be OK knowing that I’m no longer alive just because it was so important for you to win? Do you feel like a big person now?

I just drank a whole container of Drain-O. But go ahead and leave, keep walking out the door, I’m sure my digestive system is strong enough. My metabolism can handle it. No you don’t have to stay and call poison control and try to stop me from making myself throw up, even though it clearly says on the bottle not to induce vomiting if accidentally ingested. Yeah, you were just about to leave right? Yeah go ahead, see you later. Yeah it’s not like I wrote a long suicide note to everyone that we know saying how you drove me to drink it, because you were always so argumentative, and hell bent on winning, that it was driving me insane. Yeah, it’s not like I wrote it out and set it to be autosent to everyone on your e-mail contacts by tonight, so if I don’t survive you’ll look like a heartless psycho.

Don’t look at me, I didn’t change all of your passwords. Don’t look at me, I didn’t hand out all of your credit cards. Sure, just go, go ahead, leave, because I’m an infant, right? Always acting like a little kid, right? Sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying right now, I’m too immature. Sorry, I can’t understand you when you’re screaming like that, like a little kid, like a huge baby.