I’m scared. No, more like I’m terrified. Nothing is right. The harder I try, the more I realize the problem is that I cannot fathom this continuing on.

I don’t want to be this way, redundancy in subjects I don’t enjoy, like politics, religion, and marriage. I loathe hate. Yes, it makes perfect sense to just hide, run away, pretending the silence isn’t deafening. It seems as if day after day, I have less to say.

It’s a glint of either annoyance or hatred when he looks at me, years of seeing it nearly every time I’m around, that’s what turned me cold. I’ve been feeling so icky, I hate being in the same room. My tummy troubles have returned, but part of me wonders if it’s stress making me nauseous, not a flare of gastroparesis.

I wish to escape, see his face as if I will have a chance to touch his grace…but I must wait. When I want something this much, for my heart, it’s dangerous. I shouldn’t miss him. And yet, I do. I miss sharing words with him, I miss his smile, I miss watching him work, I love observing him play with instruments and people along the way.

But, outside these walls, I don’t exist, and I know it. Until I can trust myself to maintain impulse control, until I can trust that I can stay quiet despite desire burning my heart to moan at his words of wisdom, I think it’s best if I stay here for another late night dreaming about a man I don’t know.