'please don't go home and cry'

'please don't go home and cry'.

the words fell like empty feathers through the air. the silence a gaping hole in my soul as i turned away, towards the door.

i try to rationalise. 'in the vast canvas of time, eight weeks is a mere dot of ink.' but the truth is that reality will hit me soon. you have all of your mind to think about what it's going to be like over the next eight weeks till we see each other again. but for me - my mind is occupied by so many things. what is africa going to be like? am i going to survive? will i get destroyed? or will it fuel me to the heights i have always wanted to fly to? will i flourish or falter when the time for me comes?

the reality is - in a week's time, deep in the heart of rural zambia - i will miss you. and i will miss you terribly. then, my tears will come.

what is this haze around me? a haze so fine, that it's almost unnoticeable. but it's there. it hums, softly.

silently, steadily, the shadows creep around me, dragging my consciousness to the realm of dreams.

goodnight sweetheart. i wish i could be the strength you need right now, instead of this haze of a person.