I sit here while she's gone and pretend to write. This is the time I wished I could have. Dealing with her issues, drying her tears, padding her ego until she can again return to the life that sends her running back to me, why? It's a question I cannot answer. I'm so smart she says. I always know what to say and am so understanding. So why can't I fix the one damn thing that drives me crazy? It seems like all I do is wish for those times in between when I can be free, when I can think about the things I want to think about, when I don't have to worry that any permanent damage has happened to her. But then I sit here scared that she'll never return, and I can't write a thing.