"I don't know why, I don't know why; We need to break so hard"

I am not okay. All I want is for him to hold me and tell me it’s OK and it will be OK. I want him to tell me he loves me. Really, genuinely, loves me. It doesn’t work like that, does it?

The flood gates are breaking. At work. As I sit at my desk trying to decide if I should create a video or edit photos.

My work wife casually walks across the room to ask how soft-serve ice cream doesn’t fall out of a cone when it’s dipped into hardening chocolate. I know she means well, but I can’t hold back the oncoming flood much longer.

She leaves and as I shut the interior door, the tears are released. Gathering my purse, water bottle, and uneaten lunch, I hastily scram to my car.

Like a newly submerged dam, the tears flood my face. Sobs soak my cheeks, drown my eyes, and catch in my throat. They mutate into a dry heave. Though pointless, I cannot prevent future attacks. Then, I hyperventilate.

The tears that fall only hide the real pain – which I’m convinced is a literal knot that has formed in my chest. I want to scream. Instead, I shake.

The drive home is guided by angel. Upon arrival, I run into the house.

For sixty minutes, there is no relief. Just the endless cycle.

My little low-rider companion, offers jumps and kisses when I sit down one of two remaining kitchen chairs. Understanding this is bigger than herself, she lies down by my side.