The interim between today and tomorrow

I came home that night to a world that would not hold still. I laid on the bed in hopes of calming the world. The phone beside my bed rang, sending ripples of pain through my head. My father would not answer it. I lifted the phone off its cradle.
My mother came home instead of going out and called the doctor. With his little medicinal tricks he sent the world topsy-turvy in front of me. More medicine, for I was right and my mother was wrong. There is really something wrong. So to the pharmacay, then home again home again, jig-a-te-jig.

I know I have high standards. Why else would I push myself through a week without sleep for a simple junior high play? I know my parents have high expectations of me. Why else would I still be living at home afraid to step into the world? I know I have no one left to talk to. Why else do I treasure a cold phone and a 32-bit screen.
But I don’t want to lower my standards. I don’t think I could even if I tried. And I don’t want my parents to expect less of me. That would somehow mean they were looking down on me. And I don’t want to go back to when I use to spend all night talking on the phone. Because that would mean I love again and my heart is across the River Styx. And I refuse to lose anyone else who thinks they can go get it for me.