Bonne fête...

Je ne pensais pas etre reveillée là tout de suite.

Mais bon, finalement, "your troponin is elevated. It could be a small hear attack or a clot on your lung". 

Du coup, je veille, avec un moniteur cardiaque pour la nuit. J'ai un peu plus d'anxiété que plus tot.

Et le dilemne de te contacter ou non semble bien un chouilla "first world problem".

Ma première nuit loin de ma Flora. Pour ta fête.

Bonne fête.

lose - lose situation.

Please don't reach out.

Don't contact me.

Don't let me know you're thinking about it.

I know you're thinking about it.

Words are too empty. I'm done with words. With wishes that life was what it's not. With not really being one of your priorities. I'm done with being an afterthought, an imaginary impossible alternative.

I'm actually real, you know.

Do you know?

But I suppose I don't matter that much, in reality.

And I suppose it's ok.

The moment has passed 

Please don't reach out.

Are you really going to stay silent?