My mentor

Sent Clarke an e-mail.  Now I'm just sitting here, tapping my fingers, waiting for a reply.

I miss him so much more than I had ever expected to, and I had expected to miss him a lot.  I hope he can feel how badly I wish he were here. 

I need my Jack Donaghy, my Doctor Cox.  My mentor.  My cheerleader.  I need someone to have my back, someone to point me in a direction, someone to tell me I'm doing the right thing.

I'm such an idiot.

Why do I need people to love me so much?  Am I really the narcissist I hear, reading this back?

I don't know.  If Clarke were here, I trust that he'd tell me the truth.

I hope he does anyway.