In less than two weeks, I'll be talking with you. In front of a judge, yes. Still talking with you, more than doing this blog is. I don't intend to act. I'm just going to be what I am. And I do expect the whole room to be filled with the vibration of my emptiness.
I keep thinking, hoping, and dreading. What am I going to say? I want the judge not to grant the restraining order. And I want you to reach back out to me and talk to me. What will I say to make that happen? On top of that, I have no idea what you're going to say. I have no idea if I'm going to cry. I don't even want to think about if you keep me away from you. I can't bear to think about that. If that happens, I'll have to burden so many people to stay where I am.
And, if you do reach back out to me? What will I say to convince you to hold my hand? I can't even begin to think about that. If I plan for that and it turns out that you won't reach out in the first place, I'll be even more crushed. Not going to push that far into the future.
When I speak, I hope everyone listens.
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