...to be allergic to sleep?

I wonder, what did she see when her eyes met mine, that night last Spring?

It was only for a second, a half a second maybe. She'd walked in the door, her eyes scanned the room, and her eyes met mine.

When, at that moment, when she looked into my eyes for the first time in months, did she see anything?

Did she see that I was holding my breath? That I was fighting back tears? That my heart had stopped beating? Did she see the horrible truth that I myself had only realized two seconds earlier?

Did it frighten her? Is that why she let her gaze continue sweeping the room, like I wasn't even there? Is that why she sought out and greeted those people that had spent the past six months making fun of her, while I sat stunned both by my own reaction to her presence and by her lack of reaction to mine?

Did she see something in my eyes? Did it frighten her?

Because I saw nothing in hers, and that frightened the fuck out of me.

It will be better this time. This time, I'll be able to weather the storm. This time, I will not be washed away.

I still manage to hold on to a smidgen of hope that this can all end well. Or end badly. I don't care as long as it fucking ends. If I continue to ignore it, and simply keep it bottled up, then it will be with me forever.

I'm becoming worried that I may be about to be tested again. I'd like to be at least a little bit prepared for that test. I'll probably still fail, but maybe not quite as spectacularly.

I was getting a little bit too complacent. I was patting myself on the back a little bit too much. Now, if I can do it again, then I might be justified in feeling a little smug.

Sometimes I just think that this is the way things are suposed to be, and that fighting and ignoring the issue is useless.

I'd rather face one large problem, even a huge problem, than a thousand tiny nuisances.