Wish You Were Here With Me Instead

I hate making you uncomfortable. I get so frustrated with myself when I do, especially if I would not have had I given the topic a little more thought. But I fear I am fixed here, even though I know it is bugging you in at least in a back of the head, trying to not let it get to you kind of way- or worse. The closer and closer I got to this place, while driving, the more and more I knew I would be stuck here for a bit. When I get this pressure in my head, this fever, and my stomach feels as though it is so high up my throat that I am about to taste it in my mouth, I just don’t feel as though I can drive. I am sorry. I will as I always do, understand if you open the door to the truck this afternoon, ready to crawl into bed and forget the world. I know that if you try to not let it bother you, it will sit and stew without a lick of your permission. I just wish I had a friend down here now, just one, that I could chill with and it not be any problem; one that I could openly talk to about anything with no awkwardness and no feeling of leaving another friend friendless because I choose to hang out with them. I wish be both had at least one of that type of person. . . . At least I have you. I love you. . . . I wish you were here-