Day Thirty-Eight

P>May 10, 2006

Dear Lunch Buddy,

I miss you. Sometimes I come home and lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling thinking of all the times I’d done the same, waiting for you to come home to me. I’d see you drive up, and run out to meet you, and you’d run to me, arms open, eager to hold me. Then we’d come into my room, get naked, and spend the afternoon gossiping, philosophizing, and making love.

I’m trying to not think of those things anymore. But sometimes I’m so lonely, I feel like I’d do just about anything to be held by someone, caressed and cared for and comforted.

I went to the doctor today and got a prescription for anxiety disorder. She gave me Zoloft and clazo-bliggity-blah something. One is for the general condition and the other is for immediate relief of panic attacks. I can’t bring myself to take them. I really don’t like the idea of being medicated. But I need to do something. I did take one of the clozos, for a mild panic attack I was having earlier. I still feel a bit panicky, but I’m so tired I can hardly type.

Goodnight for now. I love you. I want you. I want you.