It's quiet before storm. This feeling.
I never want to get that phone call, never want to hear those words. "She did it." I don't want to read any messages from her. I don't want to listen to her. I don't want to know how unable to live she is.
I don't want to know.
It's impossible to carry someone who hasn't chosen to live. Who hasn't said: "I will do the work. I will find a way. I will survive." She hasn't decided and that means she cannot survive.
She will always send me messages. She will always call me. She will always tell me that this is the last time. She cannot continue. This is the last time.
Is this the last time?
Is she dead now?
Will I get that call?
Will I be able to take it?
Or is she going to continue doing this? Over and over and over again until we are all too tired of it. Will I stay close like I've always done? Can I be there for her, knowing that she cannot survive unless she makes that decision?
I will. I can. Always. That's the deal. Stand by you, till the very end. I will. I will.
I'm quiet. So very quiet. Waiting for that one last call.
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