The rocking. Back and forth, back and forth. I sit in my chair like a child. I try to console, try to hold on. All the while I am slip slip slipping away.

The tears. They're always there. Surfacing, subsiding, lingering... trickling down my cheek.

The shaking. It only happens when I start to think that you're not coming home. That's when it's bad. Really bad. That's when I feel like my life is gone. That's when I see the light fading. The tunnel vision starts and blackness surrounds me. That's when I get scared and start calling friends.

Every day I see something else I've done wrong. Every day I hate myself more and more. Every day I cry out, 'Please come home' to an empty room, hoping that you'll hear me. Hoping that you'll feel my pain and want to ease it.

You needed time to think. I respect that. But it's killing me... Please come home. I want to make this right.

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