Dear Anxious Annie

Good job for surviving this day.

oh to have this much power over me

"...and when death visits me, i hope it's gentle: like a forehead kiss."

You've become the story I want to keep writing– imperfect, unscripted, just... just ours.

Your thoughts, your poison.

I do get over it, but then it actually comes back on a random day, at an hour with my guard down. That's grief for all of us.

a place so silent, a heart so full, and a mind that's empty– i'd live and die for a moment like that.

I would hand her a dagger so she could pierce my soul before I even destroy hers.

I also want to live desperately. Not this way. Not like I am always ready to take my last breath.

My heart mourns at the thought of your tears but I would, forever and always, prefer that over your desolating silence.