It's cool. Just give up. Walk out of my life. You found the door yourself, and it doesn't seem like there's a goddamn thing I can say to get your attention, so keep going. I can't chase after you for the rest of my life.
“At times I believed that the last page of my book and the last page of my life were one and the same, that when my book ended I’d end, a great wind would sweep through my rooms carrying the pages away, and when the air cleared of all those fluttering white sheets the room would be silent, the chair where I sat would be empty.”—