Home Away From Home

I can’t believe it.

I’ve survived this long.

I’ve waited all day.

Practicallly gave up on him showing up today. But not even five minutes in of slipping into my bed to sleep, I get a text.

“Hey you,” it says, “Get on.” It’s from a restricted number. I don’t know who it is but I decide to get on anyways. I type in the password to my laptop. The fan is on low and the lights are off. It’s a common bedtime setting for me. Something to listen to so I don’t get paranoid of every little bump in the night. And the blanket to help me dream of the love of my life.

Skype naturally automatically signs me in. It’s something I’ve learned to deal with. It’s not that I don’t mind it. But something.. Unusual happens. The internet pops up automatically. To a picture I made for my man for his birthday. The link is ready and everything. All I needed to do is give my man the link. But the funny thing is, that the link I made have one thing off. The last letter, was a P, but it changed to an L. Am I dreaming this? They didn’t usually do that. My mind must be playing games. It was probably an L, I just thought it looked like a P.

Skype’s icon turns orange, flashes. It’s a way of showing me I got one new text. I assume it’s from my buddy. The one I asked to nab any info on my man’s week. I click on the icon and it comes up as… my man’s chat.

There’s new text.

8:11 P.M.:

“No more waiting. You’re mine now.”

… Funny how when I’m unable to talk to my love, but I can’t cry. But now? I’m bawling from the feeling that I was going another day without him. My torture is over. I made it. Succeeded. Happy to have him home in my mind. Like he was out at sea for so long. But now he’s finally home. Like at the airport. Even though people are rushing, yelling, groaning, with kids screaming at the top of their lungs. All that is silent. In the turning minutes, glances and glares are exchanged. Then realizing just what the hell was going on, that it wasn’t a dream, it brings tears. Muscles twitch, screaming and crying, longing to rush in and hold him again.

And that’s exactly what would happen. Tightly embraced, sharing a loving kiss of deathly ill love. But it’s treatment is finally here. After the long hours of staying awake, just wondering what the other was doing. Is he thinking of me too? Right now? Asking yourself, hoping to find some way to know that he was. Just to know that the wait is worth it. It touches my heart. Knowing that now, after a whole week away from him. He’s finally mine. Mine to virtually curl up with and return the desperate kisses I just wanted t give him. But couldn’t, during the week of torture.

“I’m going to be honest. I feel down..”

“Why, hon?”

“.. I don’t want you upset. But it stung to watch her leave.”

…………………………….

…………… Maybe I should’ve listened to everyone here.

So now what would you call it? Am I overreacting? He’s told me before, he’ll cling to anyone. But.. I thought.. That… Maybe I should just go to bed now, and start anew tomorrow with him?.. Because in all honesty. I know the pain can be over in 3 seconds. All of it. Just get up, grab one of my Dad’s shotgun, and just shoot myself in the head. I can take his medications to overdose, or even slice my own throat. The feeling of the blade on my skin returns… but I’ll wait another 5 minutes. See what happens next in the story.