He's gone.

This morning I just got so fed up with myself, that I yelled into the bathroom mirror. "He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. He's not coming back. So quit waiting on him." I have been in a state of motionless, stagnated holding pattern. I don't want to make any decision, make any moves. If I do, it is with the thought in my mind, "What would Joe say?" "What would Joe do?" "What will he think?" He's gone. It doesn't matter what he will think. He can't tell me what he thinks. He's gone. He's gone. He's not coming back. No matter how long I wait. He won't be coming back. I have got to get a hold of myself and move. I don't care if it is not even forward. I just need to move. I need to break away the concrete around my feet and move.

I don't want to go on by myself. I don't want to take care of myself. I went from the comfort and security of my Dad caring for me to the security of Joe. And wow, was I secure. I would often tell him "You take such good care of me." I know. I know. I'm spoiled rotten. He did everything for me. He made sure everything in my world was in working order at all times. I didn't have to worry about a thing. Joe would take care of it.

Quit waiting. He's gone. He's gone. You have to care for yourself. He's gone. He's not coming back. Quit waiting. He's gone.