answers.i asked. i asked for answers. i said if you didnt tell me i would find them out on my own and i was ready to do it, guns blazing. I would track everyone down and i would personally question them until I got what i wanted. and I told you who I would start with. Everything I wanted to know since I was old enough to understand what death and life really meant I know now. 
Hooray for emotional rollercoasters. This week is testing me. Hard. 
Oh but you don't know who I am anymore. ...

Let's talk connection. 
words. words are an excellent way to communicate. I used to be really really good with words. Call it a fault of old age, (thirty feels like a hundred different lives, a hundred different me's) but I'm not so good with words anymore. Or writing. I have two beautiful , fairly untouched Journals sitting on my table in the kitchen.I'm apparently supposed to use one to write thoughts down, and the other to "talk" to god. 
Instead, I was reminded of  this account, and how much more secret and safe it is and how much faster I can get my words out when I type. 
Words...i suck at with you. I have never ever ever been able to communicate everything I want to say seriously to you. It comes out in a rush and then i feel stupid and you breeze over it and that moment is gone. And what you don't realize, or maybe you do, but you ignore it,you have to ignore is everytime i mention it, not once am i joking. not once is it anything less than a is it anything less than a plea. How many other arguments can I bring up? I've been arguing and arguing and waiting (never patiently, because frankly you're an idiot and i would say you are going to miss out on the best thing thats ever happened to you but we both know that the only way THAT happens is if you don't come back. ) That's not a choice I would ever make. And everyone can argue with me and point out your flaws but who in this world knows them better than me already? Every argument is one I've already had with myself and so everyone's arguments become tiring and old and exhausting. 
I've done everything to get away from it. I really have tried. Beyond what everyone says is the only true cure.Which would be to cut communciation.
But I can't .
God help me, but I can't. 
It's like last night,where we wound up someplace i wasn't sure we should go,and then it was happening and if you had stopped, i seriously seriously seriously could have killed you. Lying next to you while you slept and I was awake the entire night, i tested my theory. 
I shifted in the bed. I moved and tossed and turned and every single time, your hands found mine. In your sleep. 
That matters. 
I'm not going to fall apart again. I'll cry. Of course I will. When I feel like the clock is ticking and I have just a few stupid little hours to spend with you before you're gone again and who knows when I'll see you? 
If I didn't understand you so well.
If i didn't know that you won't be happy with anything or anyone until you feel you've done what makes you a man.
maybe i could let go. but i doubt it. 
there's a part of me that you bring alive. I never laugh as much or enjoy life the way i do when i'm around you. 
and why? you're just one stupid man. who got in. 
I've tried curing you with other men and women ,with liquor and drugs,and therapy and cuts and hospitals and it all. I've gone the whole wheel round. Nothing works. and it doesn't work for you either. 
so here we are. 
again. 
ah,jesus.it doesn't matter, you know? I'll do this dance with you over and over. I don't care what that makes me, or who thinks what about it. I know it all. I know everything that's wrong with that. 
I don't care. You're that important to me. 
So , you know...get it together. Straighten up and fly right. Hurry the hell up. The waiting, the long absences are seriously excruciating, but I'll keep doing them. 
so okay. I'm running out of words again and my brain is tired and i'm tired and its early and i have a doctors appointment and just want the safety of my bed.