Tears dry on your eyes after you cry them and leave salty tracks and cracks in your skin. I twas worth it when I cried them for you but it hurts now, and I can’t stop clawing at my eyes. I think the biggest problem is that I don’t know what I can do or say to make things go back to the way they were, or at least understand why they changed and how to adjust to this new way of things.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I told you I loved you and I meant it. That means I’m willing to leap bounds and jump hurtles just to hold your hand or listen to you talk. When I left, I said I didn’t want to lose you, and you said that wouldn’t happen. I haven’t lost you yet, but God, it’s painful trying to dig my fingernails into your forearms as you yank away with your head turned.

I don’t know where this is or was going, but it’s hurtling forward at 50mph like the engine of my car when I slammed the door in your face and flew out of that parking lot, just desperate to put as much space between you and me as I could. Delaware’s about as far as I could get on such short notice, but here I am, a dorm room away in a state away in such a state, and still not far enough.