[He stops himself right there, takes a moment to read back through their exchange. After giving it a quick run through, he promptly feels like an ass - this isn't the first time he's assumed there was only one way to interpret something he said, and considering his track record, it undoubtedly won't be the last.]
Christ that's exactly what it looks like isn't it
I said before I'm not any good at this sort of thing. At least I can rest assured I haven't made a liar out of myself.
[Alright, how to summarize everything he means in a way that Fiddleford will understand...No, seriously, how. He has no idea.]
I didn't mean to accuse you of not trying hard enough. Believe me, I'm the last person who would ever question your work ethic. It's just
It's jarring, Fiddleford, seeing how much this place has changed you. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that you could ever be brought so low. I didn't /want/ to. Then you went and proved wrong all the things I had accepted as fundamental truths and now I
I'm a little shaken up. If that wasn't already obvious.
I don't know what to tell you, Fiddleford. I don't like what's going on and I want to fix it but I don't know how. I don't know why I thought dropping all this in your lap would help in that regard, but here we are.
[He pauses, unsure if he should really send such an unruly stream of consciousness. He feels like he should edit something out, make things shorter and more concise, but - well, if he's learned anything about communication it's that the less specific he is, the more room there is for doubt.
[Despite his reservations, he hits send. Then, as an afterthought, he adds one last sentence just to wrap the whole mess up.]
no subject
[He stops himself right there, takes a moment to read back through their exchange. After giving it a quick run through, he promptly feels like an ass - this isn't the first time he's assumed there was only one way to interpret something he said, and considering his track record, it undoubtedly won't be the last.]
Christ that's exactly what it looks like isn't it
I said before I'm not any good at this sort of thing. At least I can rest assured I haven't made a liar out of myself.
[Alright, how to summarize everything he means in a way that Fiddleford will understand...No, seriously, how. He has no idea.]
I didn't mean to accuse you of not trying hard enough. Believe me, I'm the last person who would ever question your work ethic. It's just
It's jarring, Fiddleford, seeing how much this place has changed you. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that you could ever be brought so low. I didn't /want/ to. Then you went and proved wrong all the things I had accepted as fundamental truths and now I
I'm a little shaken up. If that wasn't already obvious.
I don't know what to tell you, Fiddleford. I don't like what's going on and I want to fix it but I don't know how. I don't know why I thought dropping all this in your lap would help in that regard, but here we are.
[He pauses, unsure if he should really send such an unruly stream of consciousness. He feels like he should edit something out, make things shorter and more concise, but - well, if he's learned anything about communication it's that the less specific he is, the more room there is for doubt.
[Despite his reservations, he hits send. Then, as an afterthought, he adds one last sentence just to wrap the whole mess up.]
I just want to make things /right/.