Taking the streetcar seems to remind me of my independent walk through life. How lonely am I to wonder if a letter could inspire love in you for me now? I said "come back angry", but stopped short of "or don't come back". Because you'll never convince me of any love at all until you tell me how blind I've been, or how wrong. And anything less will see me fear you, and that's not love of any kind. There's enough suffering. You fear me. Even if it's just the time and effort and openness it would take to know or love me. It could be best we both "stay gone".