My heart is racing faster then it does after I do a sprint because I'm anxious to know what will happen between me and her. My own bed has lost its appeal to me, because I can't lay still for more than a minute, I want to run. I'm having trouble making what I want to say clear because my mind is clouded with the doubt that everything I do is quite possibly wrong or flawed. And I'm telling myself to loosen my grip on my wrist, because even though my nails have been bitten to almost nothing, if I keep holding on this tight, there will be marks in my skin tomorrow morning. And I can't reread this because my eyes are watered over with a glassy film of tears, so excuse any mistakes. I need water, but I'm choking on my own spit, because my throat is caked with the words that I should have said to her long ago. And I'm strangling my poor ragged teddy bear, because he's the one thing I can tangibly hold on to in my life right now; considering I've lost my mind and I can't catch up with my heartbeat that's running away too fast. And I should have gone to bed hours ago but instead I'm wide awake with no chance of that because there heavy footed soldiers marching around in my head and they have had no order to sleep yet; so neither have I. I'm taking the slow breaths that I was told are supposed to soothe me, but how can things be smoothed over and forgotten if each breath you take is sharper and less confident than the last. And my fingers are shaking because I've never had to put something like this into words.