index | archives | notes Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 8:04 p.m. << [ Broken Boy ] >> Last night, we're in a haze of high times when I pull up my deep, dark anxiety. "Loss," I tell him, "I obsess about losing those I love." In explanation of my silence. "And you're thinking about that now?" I nod. "About me?" I nod again. "I'm not going anywhere, Amanda." I fall in next to him. "I'm not leaving." "Say it again." "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." We'll see. Pulse, pulse, pulse. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org