ello, jello

I text you happy birthday today on a whim. I wasn’t planning on it, but I do, and I immediately feel the panic sink in. What if you take it the wrong way? What if you’re having an awful time and my text is shoving it in your face? What if you’re not ready for me to send stuff to you? What if I’m breaking the rules? What if you read it and you think that I want to start talking again? What if you respond? What if you don’t respond? What then?

A year ago I was having a panic attack because you weren’t with me and today I’m having one because you might respond.

I remind myself to breathe, to tell myself that I’m not there anymore. I’m not on Prozac and Buspirone and Hydroxyzine and Progesterone anymore and I’m feeling better and better each day.

But I still think of you. Am scared for you. (am scared Of you). want you in ways that don’t make sense. I miss the smell of your shoulder blades. Miss counting the freckles of your back and miss feeling you sigh. It aches less and less with each week but it’s still there.

It hurts. It all hurts. I’m scared.