This chapter only took me about five times to write. I kinda feel like the story is going downhill a little. But, as always, thanks for the reviews.

DibMagician: Jeez, thank you! And who isn't a Membrane fan? He just plain rocks.

Dibsthe1: Yup, you got it exactly right. And just wow. I really didn't expect anyone to like this story so much. Really, thank you!

QueenofPotatoes: Ha, yeah that made me laugh. Aww, thanks!

TacoNotBurrito: Yay you finally created your account! Haha, how many times have we watched the episode where the color guys forgot his pants? But aww, thanks!

Invader Zim and every character related to it belong to the all-mighty Jhonen Vasquez. And don't you just love picturing his cringing little face while reading all our horrible goblin-child fics? I know I do. Strawberry however, belongs to me.

"No Mike, I don't wanna go out tonight okay?"

"Yes, I know I promised I would."

"I'm just not feeling up to it."

"Look Mike, I gotta go, okay?"

Then I hang up. I wish I could do that with anything. Something you don't like? Well, then just hang up and it's over.

Mike's something I don't like, and I'm not sure he likes me. I know he wishes he could hang up. I wish that too, and then Mike and I would be over.

I never wanted to hang up when I was with Membrane.

I know, I know, I said I didn't love him, that I didn't need him anymore. But I still need him.

Yeah, I was wrong okay? I still need him, still think about him, maybe even still love him, but, I can't go back. Can I?

No, no, I can't. He wouldn't want to be with me, he probably found someone else. Still, there's a small chance...

Nope, I could never go back. If I went back and he was with someone else, I'd be crushed.

But what about my kids? What about my Dibbers and my little Gazzy? What ever happened to them? Are they okay? Is Membrane taking good care of them? I'll never know if I don't go back.

But, they would hate me too wouldn't they? Their mother left them for some idiot named Mike!

Tears fall fast rolling down my cheeks. I bite my lip as hard as I can until it starts to bleed, the bitter taste rolling around on my tongue.

Maybe...maybe they wouldn't hate me after all. Maybe they miss me, and wonder where I am at night, and pray for me and, hope that I'm alright, and write imaginary letters to me, wishing they knew my address.

But it's too much to hope for and I couldn't stand it if that wasn't true.

Still...