We are running out of time. I just feel it in my bones.

It does not matter how much I try to distract myself, to focus on other things, to blame the workload, my mother, the hormones, the weather. Eventually, sooner rather than later, we will have to face this music.

We keep tiptoeing around this giant pile of unsaid words. Acting as if it is not happening, that we are not irremediably broken, that we might get past this, emerge stronger on the other side, but eventually we will have to discuss it. It’s not fair, not for me, not for you.

I feel it coming, the day you will ask for things I can no longer give. I dread what will come after, but I cannot betray myself, force myself, continue pretending I don’t already know what I know.

But for now, we live to breathe another day.