I am alive. I’d say alive and well, but well, that’s just sketchy in the quiet moments.
I find moments of peace, here and there, but there are just as many moments of conflict.
His calls and emails are unsettling. I’m glad to hear from him. To know he’s ok, soothes a little part of me. And yet, hearing from him breaks my heart. The gulp he holds back when he talks. The pain he conveys in a voicemail message, or via an email. I wasn’t sure I could live with myself if I stayed. I’m not sure I can live with myself now that I’ve gone.