emptiness || one-take write

I will think of you tomorrow, December 6th. I will think and think and think. I will hope for 2–2.5 hours, the length you will be in surgery. I hope things go alright. I hope things go okay.

I/we had no idea that this was going to be the case. That this was going to happen between the 18 weeks of me being gone. No one ever knows of these kinds of things happening in life.

Right now, I feel empty. I feel empty and worried. I feel like cracking a joke. Distracting you and myself from this situation, but that will not help. Not for this.

This is not a vaccine. This is not something that will only happen for a bit. This is something permanent and scary. Scary during the procedure and scary during the recovery.

I hope you stay positive and things go smoothly. Stay strong and positive. Please.

But I do feel empty. A coldness has been running through my body ever since we hung up. We said our normal “bye!” I hope I did not do anything I would in the future regret.

I feel helpless, yet I should do something. Say something. Think something. I have felt this way before. In other situations. Situations where I felt that I had no control. I feel my anxiety.

If you are reading this, please just think happy thoughts. This may be a fairly low/sad written piece, but happy thoughts on life and living would be really great right now. Thank you and I shall possibly come back to writing. We will see.


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