“Stop organizing my fucking life for me and smoothing over the fact that this is NOT okay. This is beyond not okay; far, far, far, from O Fucking K.” I push his hands off and curl up into a ball in the corner of the couch. Being my cute, little spitball, difficult Sophie self that used to be a much more common presence and not for the first time, I wonder why he ever stuck around back then. “Just let me breathe.”

I was like this a hell of a whole lot more when I was moving on ...