I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Maybe for the strength to tell him that sometimes I feel so out of control of my body and my thoughts that I begin to wonder if my body and my thoughts are even mine, if I’m even a real person or just a piece of loose litter getting carried along in a strong wind. The strength to admit to him that I lost my balance at some point and now life feels like I’m just falling down one endless staircase. Maybe I’m just waiting for him to ask if I’m okay.
