Healing

You know how the wound that is starting to scab over itches? Like you can't help but to scratch at it, and yet you will inevitably pull off the scab and the process will start over.

I'm trying desparately not to pull off the scab.

I had to breathe. To get off the roller coaster for a moment. Try to remember what it felt like with two feet underneath me.

Even as a concious choice, its hard. Hard not to dwell on where I'm not. On what he is doing. And with who.

Hard not to pick up the phone. To write the email. To ask what I don't want to know, and yet have to know.

And knowing who I am, tomorrow, I'm sure, I'll pick the scab till I'm bleeding.