Sitting by myself. Not unusual. Yet not common. That one person, always there, yet never around.If you looked at me, you would see some one, a girl sitting by herself. My brown hair brushing across my shoulders. My deep red sweater some what to big. Around my too thin frame, I try to eat, I really do but to no avail my stomach heaves at any kind of food. Here I sit, hunched over my computer, book, or my beautiful piano. If the piano, I sit on the mahogany bench at my grand piano, if my computer or book on my hardwood floor. Nothing but the piano, the mattress, the computer, and a stack of books were in my room. The closet sits there with almost nothing inside, jeans, my blue sweatshirt, my red sweater and my white t-shirts, and my white cami. All that was in my room save the one thing that matters, the phone. My single lifeline to sanity. WIth his voice not that far away. He visits when he can but he can not risk being exposed to being sick. His health cannot be affected. I love him but my he will not see my last breath.
