Weeks of stress without someone to turn to and playful or purposeful teasing is getting too much to bear. I run to the phone or to my email account to tell you about it and hope you lend a sympathetic ear or a strong shoulder to cry on but stop myself because in times like these, I realize that you're not really there.
You're not a figment of my imagination If that were the case, I can get treatment and make you go away. You're here and you're not. So I go on and hope for a better day tomorrow.
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