Up in three hours

I have been shit for a blogger.

Now it's ten to midnight, I need to be up in three hours to finish my packing, grab an eat, and get to the airport.

I can't sleep. I'm going to miss my son. I already feel like a limb was cut off and I am not looking forward to hugging him goodbye at the airport tomorrow. I'm not used to leaving him. This is killing me. I feel so sick.

Then my head likes to fuck with me. Awesome imagination has me dying on the airplane, or my hubby and son dying while I'm gone. Where the fuck do I come up with this?! I'm not afraid of flying...I'm afraid of dying. And this always happens before I have a flight out. Just never this bad, and I think it has to do with not taking Tony with me.

Fuck'n fuck y'all.