Waiting

I'm beyond exhausted. The job is really hard. Not difficult, it just takes so much out of me, mentally. Keeping an eye on up to 30 kids at once can be pretty draining, even if it's only for 4 hours at a time. Always keeping an eye out for scissors, glue, knocked over glitter, or anyone too young nearing the glue gun. It would be a breeze if it wasn't for the lack of sleep. I've dozed a few times today. But only 20 minutes or so. I still only sleep 4-6 hours. Mostly it's 4. Not so much 6.

I'm eating, at least. And I made a cheesecake today, to bring with me tomorrow for the girls. Sandie really wanted me to. She even made me a valentines card and promised to beat up anyone else bringing flowers to the workshop. Cause a guy brought his wife flowers right in front of me, and she could tell from the stiffness of my movements how much it bothered me.

I've lost some weight. Not a lot, and not in a good way. But I can see it. I don't look in the mirror beyond putting the contacts in and out. I'm not really in a mood to face what this is all doing to me. I see the circles under my eyes plenty.

I need to find the will and energy to organize my things, so I can pick up the rest of it all, from him. I have neither. I just want to curl up in his arms and have everything be okay. And to tell him sorry. To make it better.

It's all been horrible today. I've felt like a giant bubble was around me. Kinda cutting me off from the world, and feeling all heavy on me. Making it hard to move or feel or breathe. Like the world is very far away, and yet pushing at me like crazy. Trying to squeeze the life out of me. The remaining life. Suffocating. It's been very cold.

I hear him when it's quiet. It's just memories and wishing, I know, my mind wanting him there so badly it pretends. I hear his laughter, his chattering, his breathing. I hear the floor give, the rattling of glass like he's doing that uneasy, restless thing with his leg. I hear his snoring and his declarations of love whispered in my hair when I try to sleep.

I keep having that feeling he'll call any minute now, telling me to come home. So I keep waiting. Feeling restless he's taking so long. Feeling stressed that I can't do something, cause it'd be interrupted really soon. Feeling like I should get going already. Feeling it useless to unpack. Feeling homesick, him being home. Feeling it stupid to even plan for getting the rest of my things. Or get fresh flowers, to replace the smell of rot. Cause I'll be going home any moment.

Right?