Something broke and I don’t yet understand what. It makes me hard to focus, keeps me watching my email for the one that says goodbye (for good) and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same again. Something broke that I cannot repair, as if the intricate, fragile mechanism that has been ticking for so long has built up some kind of tension and now it snapped and no longer works. I find myself fearful of the future, afraid of what will happen next and not caring about anything or anyone. Anyone except her, who seems never to answer and I’m too afraid to ask why, or when or how. I’m too afraid to tell what is the truth, that I’m worried and anxious about what is going on and that I need to be reassured that in fact everything is OK. I remember old times (two in particular that come to mind) when I felt similarly, in a situations where I had no control and was incapable of doing anything meaningful because all I could do was to wait. It’s a feeling of hopelessness and a form of anguish that eats one bit by bit, bite by bite until eventually only the shell of one remains. And nobody wants a shell. Not even someone who really cares, not even someone who is the most precious to us. Nobody. A shell is just a useless weight and without its own content it can only be filled up with that of someone else, which is not only boring but even more heavy and so burdensome. I must let the shell go or fill it up myself or else I’m in for a seemingly never-ending rough ride.