I can tell you blame yourself; everyone can tell. When you came in to see me, I wasn't really asleep. I just didn't want to see you. Well, I take that back - I wanted to see you; I just didn't want to talk to you. Lying in bed with my eyes closed, opening them only a slit whenever I didn't think you were looking, was the only thing I could think of doing. I didn't want to talk to you because I didn't know what to say. I wanted to scream at you, blame you for everything. I wanted to yell at you, ask you why you left, how you couldn't have seen that I needed your help. But I know that's not fair. I know it's not your fault. You did everything right, you were there for me when I needed you and you didn't leave until you were absolutely assured that I was all right. Of course, that's all I was doing - assuring you with what you wanted to hear. There was no way you could have known what I was going to do. Maybe you might have been more perceptive if you hadn't been so occupied with not upsetting her, but I could never hold that against you. You were always the one person I had on my side no matter what. You always trusted me, believed whatever I told you. Before, I got a kick out of how gullible you were, but now I'm beginning to realize that you weren't gullible at all, you were trying to show me that the answers I was looking for weren't in anyone but myself. But you should have known. You still should have known. I know it's not fair for me to feel that way, but I can't help it. You should have known; you always knew. Why was that night different? Why didn't you see the pain in my eyes, the shakiness in my voice, my hesitant replies? Why didn't you notice how much I needed you that night, like you usually did?