Can u tell me if there are any mistakes in this text?

Going round the house and the garden, the thought of you became insistent. It was a true obsession. Many times I had walked over towards the phone and I had picked up the receiver with the intention of sending you a telegram. But every time, as soon as the exchange answered, I would decide against it. In the evening, sitting in my armchair, with nothing but emptiness before me and silence all around, I would question myself about what was better. About what was better for you, of course, not for me. For me, life with you by my side would have been much more wonderful. I am sure that if I had told you of my illness, you would have cut short your stay in America and you would have rushed back here. And then? Then perhaps I would have lived three years, or four, longer maybe, perhaps in a wheelchair, perhaps in a daze, and you would have nursed me out of a sense of duty. You would have done it with dedication but, in the long run, that dedication would have turned into anger and rancour. Rancour because years would have ped and you would have wasted your youth. Because your love for me, like a boomerang, would have forced your life into a blind alley. The voice inside me, that did not want to phone, whispered this to me. As soon as I decided that it was right, a contradicting voice immediately would make itself heard in my mind. (…)