You will eventually lose control, and when you do – when you lose every last shred of it until you can’t see red from black, right from wrong – I will be here. Ready to back you up, the way you should be doing for me.
I part my lips, but no words come out. I want to cry. Want to beg. Want to scream. But mostly, I want to hold him until I know he’s going to be okay. Then I want him to hold me until I’m okay, too.
