It's been six weeks. No wait, over six weeks already. Over six weeks since I heard a word from him. Has it really been that long? A month and a half? Apparently. When he left me, I had this feeling. I said to my mate, I know I won't hear from him until he's home. And I've been right. Why's it I'm always right in bad things?
This silence is awful. More awful than anything I ever experienced. It starts to eat you from the inside. Alive. And all you can do is wait. Let it happen or not. The silence gets too loud. The silence fills my head, my brain, goes down my throat, into my heart and stomach. Everythings filled with this awful silence. It takes control over my body. Silence. What does this silence mean? I don't know and I can't get rid off it. It's hard to form a clear thought.
Over six weeks. It's just a short stretch in a lifetime, but the short stretch seems lifetime long at the moment.
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