Grace

I hate it when you leave for work. I really, REALLY hate it. Like, I know it's necessary, and the checks I get for being fucked in the head can't cover our expenses, but I HATE IT WHEN YOU'RE GONE! I HATE it. I hate being alone, I hate not having anyone to make sure I don't do anything stupid, I hate having to heat up leftovers for lunch because I can't be trusted alone with knives. I hate it. It's the worst part of the day, even worse than when I have nightmares because when I wake up from a nightmare I at least have an excuse to climb into your bed. I can't fucking follow you to work. People will see what a fucking freak I am and chase me back home. Fuck, I hate this. My only solace is that you're about to come home. I checked a GPS and there isn't any traffic on the route you take, so I know you'll be here a little early. I spend the last ten minutes before you get home getting ready - calming myself down, hiding the evidence of all the crying I was doing and putting away the dirty laundry of yours that I was wearing. When the front door finally opens, I'm standing right there in the entryway, staring directly at you with an almost manic expression. "Hi! Welcome back!" I nearly shout, rushing to help you get settled so we can finally fucking spend some time together. "How was your day? Anything good happen? I really, really missed you."