  an old piece of paper under my bed reads: The rain hits my windshield. Because I'm in the parking lot. In the confusion of the past 24 hours, I showed up an hour early for work. I hate the way it rains. Only when I'm down. As if to mock me. And take away the last of the sunshine. Never leave, never sorry. Hate me because I cause the guilt that you should feel. Hate me. It will be easier for me.If you still love me, don't tell me now.
Hate me for this moment. Let the anger you feel for me get inside you. Scream at me, but when it's all over, see what it is that you've broken, and remember, nothing ever falls. Nothing ever changes. And as shattered as I am right now, I'll still be here, with nothing but love. (originally written in August 2002). 
