Hours

Telephones are a strange idea. You’re listening to a voice on the other end of a wire. It usually unnerves me, but with Much it is different. I’ve talked to her for hours now and we could go on talking. I’ve woken up after a night of talking, my throat is slightly raw and I still have that fluttering feeling. A little while ago I cursed that feeling, but this time I think it is shared.
In as much as Much is honest and sweet, I can’t help feeling scared. I’m more than easily hurt, it wouldn’t take much, but then Much is more than capable of anything now. She could reach out, climb out and become something real. She could turn around and shatter me. There is no help for the helpless, I have to settle the feeling otherwise it’ll eat away at me.
When it gets to that point that going on is so much pain that giving in seems easier. I can’t help but think, ‘why the hell did I come so far?’ And I keep going, gritted teeth, coat braced against a wind that tears through me. A road like this is a daunting thing, but when you think of what you are reaching out for and how far you’ve come, there really isn’t any other option.