overheard phone conversation 2006

I've been clearing out my office, emptying drawers, leafing through old notebooks, finding notes for story ideas I'll never get to, though it's fun to imagine the directions possible stories could take.
 
This was scribbled on a bus and pasted in a notebook. Not dated but the previous scribble is from 2006. An overheard phone conversation. Fellow about 20.

Do you have to point out every single thing I did wrong to make me feel bad? I said I'm sorry.
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I don't know what you want. I don't know what to say to make you happy.
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Like I mean right now.  This fucking conversation we're having. You yelling at me.
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Okay, so I'm not very smart. Do you think the way you're talking now is helping to make me smart? It doesn't. You're just making me feel bad. Does that make you happy?
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What the fuck! What do you want? For me to chase after you? Fuck!
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No, I'm not a daycare. I don't want to take care of you.
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You know what, I hate this. I hate that whenever you get pissed off, I'm the one who has to back down.
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Yeah, you keep poking me. Digging, poking, digging, poking. What is this? Poke the angry bear?
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I'm very angry. You're not making me feel better. I said I'm sorry.
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Yeah, right.
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Right.
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No, it doesn't.
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Hello? Hello?