The Feelings Will Kill Us

Issues

I sit there
Pen and paper in hand
Waterfalls draining out of my eyes
"This is it"
I tell myself as my pen touches the
   paper
"This is the end"
I continue to write
Not stopping to make sure what I wrote
   makes sense
"The end of this life has come"
My vision gets blurry
My thoughts start to swim
My handwriting sloppy
My last words being:
"To my love, who was there with me
    until the end of my time.
We shall meet again one day."
I step back
Not believing what I just did
I mutter
"I can't do this anymore"
I grab my coat
Run out the door
Leaving nothing behind
Save the pen,
The paper,
The words I regret writing,
And my letter of resignation
I scream into the vastness of the
   garage,
"I can't be an editor anymore!"
As I get into my car,
I feel relieved,
Relaxed,
Free.