"And I'll deal with you like that." "That sounds endearing, doesn't it? Where could I have met a man like him? He'll take care of me through heaven and hell, through the bad and the good. But who's going to tell him? I don't want to deal with myself like that. Who's going to tell him that I can't carry on like this? Who's going to tell him that, forget others living with me, living with myself is insufferable, that living with myself is only tolerable when I'm not myself, that living with my reality is difficult. People will tell you they're bad. People will tell you they've done bad things. They'll ask you not to judge them, not to hold them in contempt, not to hate them when you see their reality. But who are you to judge? Who are you to call them out? Who are you to point fingers when you don't even want to live with yourself? Why would I ask someone to stay in my life to improve my life, to not leave me alone, to ...