My Dear Girl. I Am His Family.

I Feel A Thread Tugging Me Again, But This Time I Know That It Isn’t Some Sinister Force Dragging Me Toward Death. This Time I Know It’s My Mother's Hand, Drawing Me Into Her Arms. And I Go Gladly Into Her Embrace.

We Are Not People Who Touch Each Other Carelessly; Every Point Of Contact Between Us Feels Important, A Rush Of Energy And Relief.

What Is Wrong With You?' I Shake My Head. 'pull It Together.' And That's What It Feels Like: Pulling The Different Parts Of Me Up And In Like A Shoelace. I Feel Suffocated, But At Least I Feel Strong.

You're Too Important To Just... Die.

Sometimes I See Him As Just Another Person, And Sometimes I Feel The Sight Of Him In My Gut, Like A Deep Ache.