To say I am tearful at the moment is an understatement. The tears seem to be in a hurry to escape me: they are in such a hurry that they stream in unison from each eye, making butterfly symmetry on my cheeks.
I give people too many chances, I am told. I am really feeling that now. I have a research paper to do tonight, but I doubt that that will get done.
I am afraid to lose you, my darlings. Though you who are so close to my heart are so few in number. I would give you endless chances, if I could. I am afraid that one day I will not be able to support you or put on this mask any longer.
I love you, my darling.