I'm mad I was knocked over before I could let go of the handle bars.

I'm glad you didn't wait until I was coasting, arms out, and heart exposed.

You were only thinking about you. About how you felt. Your problems. Your fears. Your anxieties.

The whole time you never asked me about mine. You never asked me what my fears were. What made me anxious.

They are that you won't want me.

That I won't make you happy.

That I won't make anyone happy.

So I'm mad because when you knocked me over, I fell.