I just finished a telephonic chatter with the ole dear. She attempted (unsuccesfully) to stealthily slip into conversation that she happened to go on a jolly jaunt to the chiropractor the previous week, and he had discovered, after much japery, that she has next to no pain sensation in her feet, fingers or neck. She told me the story purely because she found it amusing.
She is a daft bloody hippy.
I constantly wonder what I would do without her. When she tells me she's been to the doctors, I always have the same gut reaction. It is as though someone is squeezing my bronchials tight, choking me from the inside out. As though someone has filled my lungs with dust and ash, and try as I might, I just can't breathe. Such is my fear of losing her.
I get scared that the last time I spoke to her will be the last time.
I get scared that I spoke too much about me, and never enough about her.
I get scared that she'll never know how astounded I am by her amazingness.
Often, after hanging up, I will find an excuse to call her back...
Just so I can tell her I love her again.
She is a daft bloody hippy.
I constantly wonder what I would do without her. When she tells me she's been to the doctors, I always have the same gut reaction. It is as though someone is squeezing my bronchials tight, choking me from the inside out. As though someone has filled my lungs with dust and ash, and try as I might, I just can't breathe. Such is my fear of losing her.
I get scared that the last time I spoke to her will be the last time.
I get scared that I spoke too much about me, and never enough about her.
I get scared that she'll never know how astounded I am by her amazingness.
Often, after hanging up, I will find an excuse to call her back...
Just so I can tell her I love her again.
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