The gap slowly grows, manifests itself into a canyon over which Evel Knievel himself could not jump. And it is at this point which nothing is changeable, nothing is fixable. In a matter of months, there is a good problability I may never see her again. Quite the ways off it is, but it all screams within my head louder than any daydream or job I must pay attention to.

It has gotten to the point where sleep has grown to be dreaded. Given, it has been this way for a long time now, but this is just another burden onto the ball of worry and anxiety that my brain plays raquet ball with every night.

Already, I see the gap begin to swell, start its journey outward, until she becomes but a speck on the other side of the gaping crevasse. It almost becomes too much. I fear losing my composure if faced with it too long. I wish to speak to her of it, but I am of the feeling it would bum her out, and just cause overall discomfort, and there is nothing would I fight so hardly to prevent than that.