I don't want to lose you, but the panic in your voice tells me I am going to. I can't think, can't speak, and can't feel. My whole body shuts down; I go into panic mode.

One billion, seventeen hundred eighty-two million, four hundred twenty-four thousand, nine hundred sixteen words, questions, exclamatory things, and pictures blast through my brain. Your words are a wild, galloping stallion, and my mind is your endless green field. Somehow, the smallest part of me stays calm and I ignore the things that spill out of your mouth. Outside of myself, I am calm, but inside, I quietly died. I'm half insane; half alive.

My mouth glues shut automatically, because it can feel what I desperately want to say. Words linger on my lips. They are drops of poison waiting for my mouth to open so that they can cannon ball down my throat and hope I choke on them as I swallow. My eyes drown in a pool of tears, and my vision becomes unclear. I can feel my mask of make-up sliding off my face, and I can hear yours doing the same.

The world has stopped. All lights are red. Movies are paused. Music has ceased to play. You are scared. I am terrified. Fear eats us alive while we think. It's a one way street. One way in; no way out. The awful truth is known. You are slowly traveling down the road of death.

And I can see everything in your eyes. My life is there. One word: death. I snap like a twig. I am completely insane underneath it all. I suddenly realize how much you mean to me. A train of love ran over my heart.

You may think awful thoughts of me, and believe I can't stand you. The truth is you are my mother. I love you forever, and I hope I'm with you the day you die, because it would kill me if I never got the chance to say good-bye.