Sick

Reading about that makes me sick. Really, really sick.

I don't want him to hurt you in any way. I don't want you to be hurt in general.

That one day when I got a call that you fell, my world stopped turning. I dropped all of my problems along with everything else in my life and ran to you, to make sure you were ok.

I can't lose you to anything. I really, honestly can't.

I can't see that happen to you, and replay my past in my mind.

I can't see what happened to me happen to you.

I'm here for you, darlin'. I always am.

I just want you to know I'm here to talk. About anything.

Please just listen to this, if anything:

Be careful.

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In other news, here's a piece I just wrote.

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"Our planet is poisoned, the oceans the air...around and beneath and above you..."

I am afraid of the power behind words.

I sat on my couch, watching the ceiling. I debated whether or not I should tell you.

"I'm trying to tell you..."

I closed my eyes and thought about how you might react. To watch your beautiful smile and warm eyes to turn cold and lifeless. To watch you run from me. To hear you say what I hope you don't.

To hear you say what I hope you do.

I can't again. I can't.

This thought has been swirling in my mind for days, and yet I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid of the power behind these words.

It has the power to bring joy, and just as easily destroy.

Your smile. Your eyes. Your voice.

You.

I sat up and watched the room start spinning. It got hard to breathe. My heart started racing out of control. I was dizzy and nervous all at once. Just thinking about how to tell you.

I felt nauseous. I felt stupid. I felt confused. I felt my world exploding in my face once again.

If I don't say it out loud, it won't be real.

"I..."

I stammered and stared at the wall. Everything around me was melting away.

"I..."

My mind was exploding with all sorts of different emotions. I couldn't do it.

"I..."

I fell back down on the couch and curled up under a blanket. Secure.

My phone rang and it pulled me from my point of concentration. I answered and acted as though nothing was wrong. Because there was nothing wrong. Not really, anyway.

The call ended and I stared up at the ceiling again. I watched as everything I was feeling came and swarmed me all at once again.

I whispered what I was feeling, hoping that would end all this happening.

It helped. A lot.

Walking to the door, all I kept thinking was, "I do, I do, I do..."

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out...