You only like me when I’m high.

 

I saved all my glittery fairy dust like Scrooge with his pennies. I saved them pink, mint and happy. I saved them all for you. I used them generously on you, blanketed you – to make you happy, to make us happy, to fill up all the dark scary holes of anger and pain. But there were too many holes with too much depth and too much width. I have no more magical fairy dust.