Minutes..

You told me you’d call back in a minute. You still didn’t. That was about four hours ago. Where the Fu_k are you? I know not to get worried, but it keeps happening more and more and I’m starting to think you don’t want to talk to me. I know you, but it doesn’t feel that way. What am I supposed to do? I can’t afford a plane ticket to get there and then back just to make sure you’re okay. I’m not getting any good gigs lately, so the band is in some tension. I know you won’t call back anymore tonight, you don’t have the time. I try to get better for you. I take my medication, but it’s not helping. I’m starting to get consoling for social anxiety and Paranoid schizophrenia so you don’t have to worry about me when you’re not at home. I know you’ll like this, but I also know you don’t want anyone else taking care of me. I know you want to be the reason I get better, and trust me, you will. No matter how long it takes.