Hg(CNO)2

I've been thinking a lot lately, and it hasn't been good. As I try to sleep at night, everything sort of hits me at once. My coping mechanism is to push it as far back into my brain as possible and never think about it again. Losing Leo tore me apart for a week. Then I decided to just push it to the back of my mind and pretend the world was ok again. I put on that smile and repress any negativity. While I live in my false reality, things all around me remind me of Leo. Kristen was talking about his roommate earlier today. I saw a U.S. Navy commercial yesterday. Josh told me about a guy he knows who's being deployed to Afghanistan. I have a hoodie that Leo got me hanging on the back of my door. I have the Star Trek socks he got me years ago in my sock drawer. I only wore one pair out of the pack because I want to preserve them. They're special to me.
Because of my wonderful coping mechanism, I feel combative as of late. I can feel my skin thickening in an attempt to protect myself in the future. My walls are becoming higher and stronger. I've wanted to reach out to Leo many many times since I last saw him. I've wanted to talk to his mom or roommate to see how he's doing. But reaching out at all would be exactly what Leo doesn't want. I'm unhealthy for him, and I have to respect that. But I feel like a ticking time bomb. I have layers and layers and layers of protection around my inside core. But if that core is shake, I don't know what is going to happen. I can't handle another heartbreak or upset. My mental health is dangling by a string right now. The only thing keeping me together is knowing that because of this separation, he's getting better. That's all that matters to me.