Session later today

I've barely slept this week. All thoughts of Father, grieving have been transplanted by therapist and the impending abandonment when sessions end in a few weeks. Its as though my entire being vibrates with pain, sexual and from weeping. The feelings that everywhere you look, that the object of your love is there, right there...you can see him with closed eyes, feel his being, recall his shape and facial features. If he wore cologne I would smell it without him even being near. His fingers are exceptionally long, his hands like my Father's were, large, warm though I've never touched them, I catch myself staring at them during session.

The pain at times is a relief, to know I am still alive, a woman while death would be preferrable to love or feel what is the only form of love I know since childhood, unrequited, unattainable, unfulfilled.