i turned on the radio to find you on satellite

i am happy here, it's true-- but the ache never goes away.

i feel myself wandering. i drive around in circles, endlessly, going up and down the streets i've known for years. i'm looking for something that i can't find because i know exactly where it is; i just can't get to it.

sometimes i wring my hands and rack my brains in desperation-- i can't deal with the fact that there is nothing i can do that will bring me closer to you. the next time i will see you is so far away; a lone oasis in the drought the next year will bring me. i feel very quiet and small, almost like a child, and i am always holding my breath. i now know what it feels like to be lonely in a crowded room.

i bite my nails to the quick and do everything i can to forget about you, so i don't have to miss you in those times i don't remember. i run and concentrate on the rhythm of my feet hitting the ground, over and over and over. i throw myself into work and it's all carefully calculated walking, turning, lifting, punching numbers and names into a computer. it is a rhythm all of its own, and after a few hours i have a moment to breathe and, oh-- there is your face, swimming up to the front of my memories again.

and so it goes. i stare at the same page in my book, and read the same sentences over and over again. i only recognize the meanings of the words until the third time over, because the first two times all i can think about is you.