not that I'm counting or anything, but we are almost 48 hrs from when I made my supposedly brave, strong request, and not a peep out of T.

With every passing hour I remember her concerned face during my last tirade; how she said it seemed as if I was about to give up on her (and on myself). Admitting to myself the secret of how attractive seems the idea of just quitting here.

Not done - and knowing it - but looking at it anyway.
No more guilt for unjust, raging outbursts against someone who really intends me good.
No more counting down the time before my hour starts and fighting tears, stomach knots, sweaty palms, shaky hands...
No more dredging up memories. I could live in blissful denial like my sister, comfortably avoiding my way through the rest of my life as she has chosen to do.

.........Call me T, I need a lighthouse in this dark place.