I'm not sure why I am writing this. Partially because I don't know what to do with the feeling anymore. The feeling.. I keep telling myself it's just a cold or at worst the flu. Because I break, thinking it's the grief of losing you. I know, you're just a text away. I know it's not codependency. But I can't describe it. It just hurts. It really does feel as though I'm watching a car crash in slow motion. I lost my mom, that home. But I finally found another. Yet, it's being taken by cancer too. Everyone is putting on a brave face for the youngest. But I'm not young anynore. Yet my role is being filled by an even younger me. I want to just call you, cry out my fears and you console me. But I don't have a seat in that room. I don't play that role anymore. So I watch. Because that's all I can do. Though my eyesight is deteriorating, system hijacked. Being with you feels like I'm just waiting for my mom's death again. Being without you feels like I'm fighting my own flu without any medication. Simply relying on my own immune system that's already been fighting the entire time. But maybe it is the flu. A really long, tiring, euthanizing, frigid flu. How does one claim sanctity from codependency yet speak as though they won't survive without it? Could it really be the perfect storm? Not causation but correlation? Simply just subsidiarily one of the reasons, not the 13th? I'm too tired to research, to hypothesize— my antidote has become my poison. Am I terminal? Will I survive?