I blame it on the coffees that I had this afternoon. I can also blame it on stress and nervousness - tomorrow's my first day back to work after a ten-day hiatus. I can most certainly blame it on the after effects of the surgery.
But of course I know I am the only one to blame.
Why do I still care? Why is he still lingering in my head? Why do I still weep in the middle of the night? Why?
The same thing happened a couple of nights after the surgery. As I had the luxury of staying home and do nothing, I finally managed to catch up on my sleep. Which also means I had the luxury to have dreams, lots of it. And there he was. I wasn't surprised to see him there. Nothing dramatic happened. It was so uneventful that it felt good.
When I woke up, I just wanted to take the next plane to see him. I even searched on the web to find out how much the flight would cost.
Well, in the end I stayed put. Obviously it would have been the most stupid thing to do. But the fact that I actually thought about doing it made me ill at ease for a couple of days.
I have been telling myself that one day I will be able to look back and laugh about it. But when will that day arrive? Right now, I still do not have the strength to step out of this mess.
