QUESTION SESSION:

What do I mean to you? Your slave, your doormat, your yes woman? Something to talk at and bore with your banter. Am I not human in your eyes? Am I not necessary? Then why not purchase a doll, a dummy to sit in the spot I kept warm for so long. What would be the distinction? I no longer know how to console, massage, or join in the pot of pity you, feel your sorrow, affirm your anger. So what does this mean? What happens now? Silence? Forgotten? Oh yes, useless I must be.