It's awful to admit this, but sometimes I'm so sick of him. He's so busy with everyone else, with so little time for mean. And I know, I know he has his reasons, that he has things to do, that he's important to people, and I am proud of him.

I just wish he could be home sometimes. Just here, mine, not out there with everyone else. It may be selfish, but it's what I want.

He comes home so late, and falls into bed beside me while I'm sleeping. Sometimes, I try to stay awake, but I never know when he'll be back. Just a few more minutes, I think, and then they tick by, and I'm still waiting, and he's not home. Some nights, he doesn't come home at all, and when he does, I'm too tired to even notice. Sometimes I wake up slightly as he lies down beside me, but I fall straight back into sleep again, and when I wake up, he's gone.

Then there are the other nights, when he's at home, and I'm wide awake, but he's so exhausted it's all he can do to stumble to the bed. He lies there, sleeping, looking angelic, and it makes me so angry I almost want to kill him.