No, now my mind's just attacking itself. Of course you all can live without me, so why do I find it so hard to reconcile myself with the idea? You have lives to live and I'm no part of their fabric. I'm the seabed into which you once threw your anchor. You wrench it out now and it's left a gap, a wound, but you will sail away as if no commitment of that metal had ever been made. I'm just some sand to you. Never mind. It shouldn't matter. I've never taken well to being ignored. Being ignored.