I spend my days now waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting to hear the voice on the other line tell me it has ended. I wait. Nothing.
The days turn into weeks and the months have dragged on until I am at the point of exhaustion. I learned to live without her long ago. It's the living with her that troubles me.
Every day she calls. Every day she screams. It's her life. She is the most important. Why don't I let her out? What have I done to her?
And with each answer, I am the most polite. I tell her she is responsible for her own actions. She chose to leave. She chose to stay. She chose herself.
