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. . . .and all of a sudden, the burden of responsibility weighs heavy on my shoulders. as commander of war, my fingers shake as thoughts run wildly through my head: thoughts of gaps in formations of navy ships overlap with estimates of how many i can keep from passing away in tragedy. i run my fingers through my hair. . . .and all of a sudden, her estranged mom is passing away in tragedy. and i know that her inner child is trembling. the hardest part is knowing she feels small, alone. from thirteen hundred miles away, i cannot be there to hold her when things get tough for the small one inside her, whose one desire is to be loved by those whose only job it was to demonstrate the beauty of a safe connection. . . .and all of a sudden, he loves me back. i feel it. my head rests in his lap; i feel his fingers run through my hair from thirteen hundred miles away, and i finally feel safe. i look up at him, and my breath catches at his beauty. you are so beautiful, i tell him. he smiles, chuckles to himself: even in a fever dream, you can’t resist telling me that i am beautiful. i can hear something like awe in his voice. . . .and all of a sudden, i am utterly alone, gasping in pain. i find myself praying that i am not passing away in tragedy, that my body returns to a homeostasis that keeps me from feeling like this all of the time. head pounding picks up pace. fingers shift from hair to burning forehead. i pray for a burden of responsibility that weighs heavy on my shoulders: i pray to remain on this earth for a few more years, until i am able to hug my mom, until i am able to pass away from this life without too much guilt.

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