#wjs

This grief has been my last act of love for you. Perhaps that is why I have fostered it for so long; afraid that if I stop, if I find my way out of this cave and into the light, you will evaporate and be lost to me forever. Or, maybe it’s an excuse that I’ve tried to make eloquent? Either way, I miss you. I miss the what-ifs and the might-have-beens. I am angry that you left, and sick that I wasn’t there. I want you to know that E is fucking glorious! You wouldn’t believe how amazing she is. I’m different, too. Not glorious, but strong. I think I gave up after you died. I went through the motions, but gave up on some important things. This year, instead of holding onto you, I’m going to try holding onto myself. Maybe next anniversary won’t ache like this.

13:25, while on the road: "God, I missed you so much," jackson whispered to your ear as you were both sat on the couch, his chest pressed firmly against your back, his arms around your sides holding you in a tight embrace. You smiled and sighed, your fingertips drawing soft circles on his arms." I missed you too, you know that. I probably missed you more," you said, and leaned your head back to kiss him. His hands roamed all over your body and lowered to your hips as he grew bolder. You gasped when he passed his hand past your sweatpants and underwear, to your inner thighs, slowly parting them and rubbing smooth caresses on your sensitive skin. "Let me prove you wrong."