Loss

She woke up feeling better. The tears from the night before dried on her cheeks. She washed them away after looking at herself in the mirror. Sometime in the night ,while she dreamed, she let go. She said a groggy "good morning" to her roommate as she left for work. "Have a good day" she called from behind the bathroom door. Her roomie still didn't know. She would tell her later.

She thought about the past. She thought about poetry. She thought about music and movies. She thought about him. She thought about him then thought about herself. She had to be at peace. He couldn't give that to her. She had no control over what he did or how he felt. Without talking with him, all her theories would be speculation. An attempt to comfort or to torture. She could only see things as they are. No made up stuff. She had to believe his words. She had to trust that he was being honest. If he doesn't follow through, than taking it personally would be her downfall. She stepped back. If his actions don't follow his words it would be a reflection of his character not her worth.She hoped. She always hoped. Hope can be a painful emotion. But she hoped that he would not be like the others.

She stares at the screen, re-reading her words, wanting them to sink in. Her alarm goes off. The morning is slipping by. She has to get ready for her appointment. Stretching, she closes out of her diary and shuts down the computer.