Headlights and prayers to stop the hurt

Sundays we listen to country music. I haven't stopped. I can't help but listen to the sad songs that play on repeat. Two have been hitting hard lately. 

Religiously and In your love

Both equally sad in their own way. But convicting, and where my mind has been. I've always said what I wanted, and that I was in it for the long haul. I will stand my ground. I will wait for you. Words that keep ringing through my head as I fold laundry. As I run errands. As I lift. As I walk. 

Honey, I will wait for you. 

The meeting tonight is hard. I listen and take notes. I managed to shed a few tears, and in doing so she reached across the table to hold my hands. Apparently I started picking at my nails. 

Just hours before I asked the girls to keep an eye on me, and if they saw me picking at my nails, they were to stop me gently.

She looked at me in my eyes, and said "hold my hands instead". My eyes began to water as she gripped my hands, and patted them. My nails and cuticles look like shit. They hurt when I touch anything. They burn when I wash them. I remember why I get my nails done now. I'm a picker. 

They bleed as she holds my hands. 

I make it through the meeting and I head home. It's quiet. It's lonely. It's dark. I take my meds, get gigi's on, and make my way downstairs. 

I get water, load up, and make my way to the patio. It's dark. It's quiet, with exception of the cicadas talking and singing. I turn on Spotify only to have more sad songs play immediately. I leave the playlist where it is. I smoke and try to be present, and just feel. My stomach is in knots. I cant relax. It doesn't matter how much I pray, or ask for it to be taken away... the pain is still there. 

I see headlights shine through the bushes. They turn the corner and I hear a car horn. I know it's not yours because of the sound and tone. But I like to pretend its you. 

I open my eyes and lift my head up to see you coming around the corner, saying "What are you doing, kitten?" I smile, and say "Waiting for you". 

But, I lift my head. The lights are off. The music is still playing. The darkness is still there. The loneliness is more evident than before. The tears run down my cheeks.

These are just the sweet dreams of a hopeless romantic. 

I grab my things and head inside, but not before I peak around the corner to check one more time. You're not there. 

I go inside. Put things away. Turn off the lights. Turn on the fan. Start Sleepless in Seattle for the 99th time and pray I don't wake at 12, 3 and 5:45 again. 

I can't, you can Gran. Please help me.