I sit here with tear filled eyes, attempting to self-soothe; telling myself the words of comfort I would offer a friend. My phone illuminates with offers from loved ones to provide comfort, a phone call, drive up, seeing me tomorrow. But my mind returns to the pills, knowing I have enough to cause damage – a pause in life or the end of it, or maybe just taking one again so I can sleep. The words of my doctor replay in my mind, “only take them amidst a panic attack, they can become addictive”, but I struggle to sleep, knowing I am without her. I cannot rest if it is not chemically induced. I can’t focus, my eyes are blurred, my mind can barely concentrate, music plays but I do not process the lyrics or rhythm, my appetite has disappeared – we’re back here again.