i count it as one work of prose

he didn’t ever make her whole, but he was what her mama wanted, and i was everything her father was scared of. the first time she met me she looked me deep in the eyes and said, “you’re real, aren’t you?” and i sort of understood because people these days were plastic and we were just like them sometimes and i sat beside her and said, “yeah,” and heard her sob sob sob while she blurted out that she’s never fucking sure anymore

and in the late late night we would sit together on her bed and we talk about our childhoods, hers spent in dresses that felt like nooses, mine spent hiding from monsters in my head. we would fall asleep with our hands touching and our hair undone and lock the doors and say “you’re real, aren’t you?” every so often and i don’t think we meant to be friends but we were.

and one day i saw her with the boy who would be prince because he was a fucking stunner and he brought a smile to her lips all i could think was oh oh no oh no and in the late late night we went out into the rose thickets and she picked one and put it in my hair and i said, “do you love him” and she couldn’t answer she couldn’t

and her hips were like the rolling ocean and her throat was the white of the moon and her eyes were the blue of skies right at the height of noon and her lips always held onto words like they were poison and when she read my poetry it always felt like i was being touched all over my body and when she sang for me i forgot all my sorrow and we were two colliding star systems with no friction to stop us - i was at proms and parties and breakfasts and never happy until she stepped through the door and on some certain nights even when she had more important things i got her all to myself under trees and trellises and

we were in the empty kitchen laughing and eating a cake our waistlines would hate but both of us pretending like we weren’t living down the barrel of a gun and our laughter swelled to fill the empty places of our broken bodies and we were covered with flour and she was perched like a bird on the counter in this sleek red dress and i slipped my body between her legs to reach for another mouthful and when she cupped her fingers under my chin she kissed me like she was summer and i was the wind and i felt my heart pound like a fire alarm and broke apart from her and she blushed so deep red and tried to explain herself but i couldn’t handle it, i couldn’t, i put my hands on Her Majesty as if she was water and i was lost in the desert, i held her strong and kept her close to my heart and touched every forbidden inch of skin i had been holding myself back from discovering and we kissed and kissed and kissed and her tongue was hot and wet and her teeth nipped against my chest and our dresses got in the way so we shed them like layers of lies until it was just us naked, she and i, pools of cloth at our feet, faces hot and hearts beating so loud we expected to burn down the house. her whole body was so smooth and curved and i was captive and the way she tasted was only matched by the way she writhed and we stayed up reinventing each other’s ideas of heat until it was the early morning and we had to pretend we’d never done anything

and we took dance lessons together and i wore her sleek red dress and it reminded me of the way it felt when she held me and at first we pretended like nothing happened because it was all so complicated i mean i knew she was using me to stop being so empty but goddamn when she laughed i felt the world explode and one day while we were practicing i jokingly partnered her and she paused and pushed back my hair and said “i love you” like it was the last secret she had to keep and we melted to the floor like we were made of candy and her hands were like frightened ice skaters across my skin and she was so uncertain as she ran kisses across my body and she slipped her fingers up alongside the inside of my thighs and inhaled the way i moaned under her and when her tongue found me i forgot we were supposed to be well-behaved and i watched our reflections in the mirror as we ruined each other’s good intentions over and over and over again

and the days ticked by like this and we kissed when we were alone and were best friends when we were in company and her fingers knew how to find the best parts of me in a split instant and our showers were a sin for the waste of hot water and on some nights we just rested against each other and tried to explain away the tired and on some nights we were estranged lovers and on some nights we didn’t speak, just fucked each other so raw that it gave us something real to feel in the morning, cradling our bruises as war medals in a land of machines

and the days ticked by and before he proposed to her he came to me and frowned and said, “i don’t know what she’d like for a ring.” and i said, “it figures” and he laughed about it even though i meant each word to pour like poison down his throat and i helped him pick out a ring i would have been proud of her to wear

and i went to her room that night and said, “are you real?” and she said “as can be” and when i kissed her i couldn’t stop shaking.

loving her was loving the way the world turns and loving sunrises and loving her was loving harder each and every day, loving her was loving a wild animal. it was loving an open wound.

their wedding was beautiful and i cried.

—  queen bee // r.i.d
Eventually, you will leave me. And I am aware of that. I know there’s a possibility that I will wake up one morning without any trace of you on my bed. I will no longer feel your chest, your skin, and your warmth. I know there’s a possibility that I will cease to hear your voice over the phone again, your stories and even your whispers at night. I know there’s a possibility that one of these days you will get tired of holding my hand, kissing my cheeks, understanding my mood and wiping all of my tears away. I know there’s a possibility that one of these days I will start counting my years again because you will fade slowly. I know, there’s a possibility that the smile I gave to you will disappear and be replaced with a new one. All of these things might happen - maybe tomorrow, the next day or even next week. I am aware of that. But before the skies take me away from you, let me say that I’m grateful I have met someone like you. I’m glad that all of these things happened in my life.
—  E.J. Cenita
Writers Creed Interviews: @mikefrawley

For our fourth interview, we have had the privilege of getting to know Mike from Florida, USA. Please take a moment to find out all his great stories from work from when he started writing as well as what inspires him and much more. Thank you for participating, Mike! ❤

Writers Creed: Thank you for joining us! We’d like to start off with a brief introduction. Tell us your name and any nicknames and / or cool story involving them (if any) :)

Mike: First of all I cannot begin answering questions before thanking you for this completely unexpected honor and pleasure. As for nicknames, the number one perk of being named Mike is no matter how old I am or ever get, I shall always be a Mikey, and yes I do like that. Michael is actually my middle name, and I’ll spare you the gory details, but that is confusing. I have a much stranger nickname at work, Frank, as in Frank Frawley. For the past fourteen years I’ve worked for the same family owned business, and for reasons yet unknown, one of them has and will probably always call me Frank. It’s now a running joke, and everyone including me when I’m in a good mood finds this hilarious.

WC: Haha that is a great story Mike. We’ll make sure to stick to Mike and not Frank haha. So onto the real writing questions, what got you into writing?

M: I actually started writing at one of the lowest points in my life, and never had much if any desire to write prior to 1999. Fighting a losing battle with addiction, I had chased away love, most if not all of my friends, and totally destroyed a 21-year career. I wrote about 4 poems to pass the time and hopefully keep some of whatever was left of my sanity. Several years later I was able to share one, “Hush” with a severely depressed friend. She loved it and passed it around to everyone else, who also said they loved it, and I was hooked. Thankfully, she’s now an RN, a happily married mother of two, and I’m doing much better as well.

WC: Wow that is a great answer. It is incredible how people are able to turn tragedy into something positive
and in turn also inspire others through their writing

M: People are actually pretty amazing, and when I don’t have my head buried deeply up my behind, I realize, or remember that the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.

WC: Well said, “the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.” 😊 Love that. So what usually motivates you to write? What are the subjects you most touch upon?

M: The motivation like everything else has changed over time. After my first few poems, I started writing to share with my friends at work. Along with enjoying their positive feedback, I totally unexpectedly discovered that I actually loved to write. There are so many thoughts and feelings that I feel I can adequately express only via written words. In our words, we can be actors, saints, sinners, lovers, dreamers, and anything else we can imagine. In its own way, I’ve found writing to be a very liberating experience. Early on, the mostly spiritual books I was reading often inspired me, and of course music, always music. By far my favorite topic has always been love in its many hues, from romantic to tragic to altruistic. A few of my favorite themes are of course pirates, The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, God, self-love, and most definitely dreamers.

WC: Lovely answer, just spot on. You have a wonderful point here about how easily it is for us writers to take the role of any character we choose and really go with it. The power to be able to create is fascinating. How long have you been writing?

M: As I mentioned, I wrote about 4 poems in 1999, and for reason I saved them while going through some shall we say pretty interesting times. Several years later when I began sharing them with friends at work, I probably wrote one or two per week at most. You may find this moderately humorous, after a while I started sharing prose on Fridays, and having never heard of prose along with only knowing that a blog had something to do with the internet, I referred to them as Fake Blog Fridays. Since joining Tumblr in December of 2010, and counting whatever I wrote prior to that, I’m “guesstimating” that I’ve written somewhere around 4,000 poems and other types of creative writing.

WC: Haha that is amazing! You know, I think we (all writers on Tumblr who have been blessed with your work) can agree that it was the best thing you did to start writing when you did! ❤
Any strange, interesting, cool stories or experiences happen to you because of the fact that you write?

M: I can’t think of too much other than in my early days of writing at work. I had a readership of about 50 people, and I used to go around each morning whenever I had written a new poem passing them out on company paper, and time. My boss heard about it a few years later, and while shaking his head in disbelief, smiled and said, don’t do that anymore. Also, I’m not generally very comfortable meeting new people, and it certainly was an ice breaker. New employees would often come up to me and ask, “Hey aren’t that poet guy?” Minor though it was, I’m sure I enjoyed the notoriety as the only fish in a small pond.

WC: Cute :) Well now for the last question, tell us a fun fact about you :)

M: Why did they get tough at the end? LOL. For some reason you just reminded me of one of my father’s favorite stories that he loved to share even into old age. His passion was traveling, and as a Marine Corps Officer was allowed 30 days of vacation each year. In a little pale blue Tempest hauling a camper trailer we literally traveled around the country for 3 or 4 weeks once every year. I’ve been in 40 plus states as well as both Canada and Mexico. Yellowstone with its geysers and bears was one of my favorites. Anyway, back to his story. Apparently at least one of my school teachers had called the house expressing her concern over my apparent chronic lying, and when he inquired as to why, she replied, every time we have a geography class and discuss a new location, he says I’ve been there. My father smiled and answered, he has. I can only imagine her expression.

WC: No way! Haha that was epic!

M: I heard that story many times and smiled with each retelling. :)

WC: I can see why. It sure brightened my day.

M: This has been very enjoyable!

WC: Thanks! Well thank you so much for doing this and sharing your soul with us today!


I work too much and I’ve been on autopilot— I’m driving through life with my eyes closed, I’m tired of wishing, I wish things just were— I work my way back into you or so I thought I’ve been— I count the stars in my shadow, which one belongs to you? I’ve got these demons and they’ve been writing words into my skin, you used to know me and I used to know you— where did we go wrong? I guess I’m just missing you again. The kind of love that’ll keep you up at night, that’s what I want with you.

Submission Guidelines

Bee safe, Bee zine.

The Essentials:
The theme is bees.
The deadline in August 16th
Send submissions to hey@izwis.com

I encourage you to be as liberal w the theme as possible. I’m a big fan of things that are only tenuously related to the theme, as long as there’s some tiny connection.

Poetry, prose, fiction, non-fiction, photography, illustration, graphic design all very welcome, but bear in mind that printing will be black and white, and the final zine will be A5 size.

I can accept text files and image files in most of the widely used file formats. *Do not send me a text file as a PDF pls*. Rtf is also a very awkward one to work with. .pages can be a bit of a pain but it’s ok if it’s all you got.

There’s no minimum word count, and there is no hard upper word limit on submissions, but be reasonable.

You can submit many things if you like.

I would very much like lots of doodles of bees, with no requirement for like, mad artistic skills. I wanna be able to sprinkle bees all over this zine, w lots of different kinds of bees. So pls send me a doodle of a bee if u would.

Video and audio submissions are also welcome! I’ll be putting submissions online if submitters are ok with that. I’ll be checking with each person before putting any of their things online, but if you don’t want your submission going online here, lemme know when ur submitting.

Pls let me know how you would like to be credited, and include a twitter handle or instagram username or any online thing u want included.

powerandpathos  asked:

Hi Fahye! Ignore if you've answered this before, but: What are your top tips for improving as a writer? Constant reading and writing are the obvious answers, but have you ever done something--a test to yourself, maybe--where you saw a particular improvement in your writing in a short space of time, or something that made you understand how improvements in writing can be made more explicitly? My own improvements seem somewhat furtive, and I'm trying to understand where they come from. Thank you!x

this is a great question! and I’ve been thinking about it for a while, trying to put my finger on particular projects, actions or events that have produced a noticeable improvement in my writing. you’re right in that there’s no real substitute for just WRITING A LOT, but here’s what I’ve come up with:

  • write with/against someone else. the biggest leaps my own writing made, by FAR, were during the years I was RPing at milliways on livejournal. I was young and I had good instincts but I was suddenly writing collaboratively with much better writers than myself, and I made myself keep rising and rising to meet them. I was very lucky to have that chance. but I’ve also learned a HEAP from co-writing fanfic with my friends in a more traditional way. it’s like a fun version of a writing workshop, because you’re thinking hard about both your own writing and the other person’s, and discussing it in detail.
  • do nanowrimo. writing 50,000 words of anything in a single month is a great way to condense the WRITE A LOT technique into a small space. what you learn is not necessarily to do with pacing or prose, but habit. what you also learn when you go back and reread it is that in general, what you’re writing is probably less shit than you think it is, and sometimes removing all of the pressures apart from the one to MAKE WORD COUNT frees up your brain to do some good work.
  • read as a writer. don’t do it with new books that you want to sink into. but I have occasionally gone back and read favourite books (or fics!) with the very SPECIFIC goal of analysing why I like them so much and how they work. pause every few pages, lie the book on your chest, and have a think about whatever piece of foreshadowing, scene-setting, plot construction, etc. has just occurred. how does it fit into the whole? is it a technique you can apply to your own work? I also copy passages that I particularly like out into a commonplace book, and the act of physical copying can be an excellent one when it comes to atomising someone else’s prose and making you really think about WHY it’s working and how you could use that yourself.
  • beta for someone. this trains your eye very well. it’s a lot easier to see the flaws in someone else’s stories than in your own, and it will allow you to pick up some editing tools or be hyperaware of certain weaknesses that you can then try to apply to your own work. I learned a lot, a LOT about story and pace and emotional authenticity when I was editing dress for the weather, because anna trusted me enough that she let me rip her amazing ridiculous novel apart and help her rebuild it.
  • have someone beta for you. if your ego can take it, and you trust the person’s taste, this is the flipside of the above. a good edit is like a full-body exfoliation: not the most comfortable thing, but man, you feel fresh and invigorated and MUCH SHINIER afterwards.
I’m Fine Update #20

Well, here’s an update I’m way behind on. What else is new.

Although I was late getting into draft five, once I started it went magically quickly. I think I did the whole draft in four or five days, editing around fifty pages per day, and I finished that draft on August 31st. The draft was more a clean up and to see how the story read with the new scenes I added, plus paying attention to the line. However, I’m still in a really weird mindset with this book. I can’t tell if I like it or not. I can’t tell if it’s working or not. I have no idea if it’s a strong book or if it’s still just as mess. I don’t know if I like the prose and voice. I don’t know if the characters are working, if the plot is working, if it’s too melodramatic. Gah. I’m so angsty. But anyways, angst aside, getting another draft of line edits done was pretty nice and my word count is also on the rise again, at 76 923, which is the longest the book has ever been by a small margin. And again, it’s nice to know that I cut lots of redundant words and am now replacing those with relevant scenes and details. 

After that, I had one more thing to attend to in my draft, which was to fix the timeline (aka: my nemesis because time is a construct and I’m mad about it and as a writer can’t deal). When I originally conceptualized this novel in early 2015, I wanted the timeline to be two weeks; however, after doing multiple drafts, I was seeing that the timeline actually being that short was pretty doubtful and I expected it was more around a month. As well, I felt two weeks was probably too little time for the conflict to elapse and resolve, so I wanted it to be a little longer and I was pretty sure if I counted it out, it would be. 

What I did as I was doing draft five was take note of every chronology tag in the book. A chronology tag is just what it sounds like, it’s a tag that indicates time. For example “In 2005″, “When he was fifteen”, “On Tuesday”, “The next day”, “February arrives with chill and rain”, etc. Very good for clarity which I am very bad at. Also A+ 10/10  flashback introducing technique for smooth time jumps. 

I noted all of these in I’m Fine, and along with that I took note on how much time it seems would have elapsed between chapters/scenes at points where there were no chronology tags. With all that, I counted out my timeframe.

I’m Fine is definitely not set over two weeks. Or even a month. It actually takes place over 59 days (give or take a few). 

Knowing that, I had to push the start of the book into late January rather than mid-February, and move the end to late-March instead of early-March. It was a surprisingly easy thing to fix, although I haven’t read the book since making those little changes so it’s possible if not likely there are still timeline continuity errors floating around. 

For now, I’m going to move onto something new for a bit. It’s been a long road with this book and I’m losing my perspective on it. I know I’ve made lots of progress despite my angst, and although my goal of querying it will definitely not happen this year, I have to keep reminding myself there is no rush.


I feel like I’ve shared everything that’s good and not a spoiler from late in the book? So here’s one random line I found:

I lie to lots of people, but when I lie to him I feel guilty: cold bruises in my stomach, like I’ve eaten ice cubes and they melt inside me, trickle through my blood.


That’s all for now, folks!


NaNoWriMo Day 2

Welp, I didn’t completely reach my goal for today but it’s late, so I’m phoning it in. Any time spent writing is a success story in my books. Today I had some issues trying to balance lengthly explanatory bits of dialogue (Ford recollecting some memories for Stan’s sake…) with prose. This is something I aim to improve upon continuing into this month.

Goal: 1.5K

Actual word count: 1024

Fic being worked on currently: Breaking Point Pt 2, aka from the Smaller Than He Seems AU


Fresh teardrops prickled at the corners of Ford’s eyes as he spoke, glistening in the dim lighting of the parlor. Ambient light from outside shone through the blue and green stained glass window. It cut a clear path through the shadows cast by the rest of the room, illuminating one side of each of the brother’s faces. With a soft, sympathetic sigh, Stan let his hand drop onto Ford’s shoulder. Letting him know he was there beside him as he blinked through the tears. 

“I’m sorry you had ta’ go through this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ford said with a shrug, voice thick in that way it gets when one’s deliberately trying to hold back the full brunt of their emotions. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just… time, really.”

i-sing-endlessly  asked:

How do you go from story idea to finished script? I ask partly cause I write short stories, and that's often taking an idea and running with it and then editing it down later, but it seems like that would be harder to do with a script (writing straight into script form for later editing, that is).

I’ve been thinking about this ask for a while. I even talked to C about it at length when walking in Paris recently. It’s a big one, and probably deserves an essay. Let’s see how this turns out.

In short, it’s complicated. You’re right that there’s a fundamental difference there between comics and prose.

(Most of that is based on writing a comic script is not designed to be a work of art in and of itself. Prose is finished prose. A Script is a guideline. It’s the difference between a blueprint and a building.)

Now, it’s possible you could work like prose, especially prose without a specified work-count. You just churn out panels until you’re done. You’ll probably write without specific panel numbers so you could do some editing of moment, and it’ll only work if you were working in something akin to a graphic novel.

I also think it’s most likely to turn out pretty shit. Generally speaking, writing comics is writing to a form and writing to space. 

That “generally speaking” is important. What comics generally is and what it could be are very different things. Always be aware of your assumptions - when people say “Fave comic book movie” when they mean “fave superhero movie” is fairly common one.

In most cases, there’s two specific forms you’re writing to. 

One is the page. One is the length of the whole story.

The page is a fundamental narrative unit in almost all print comics. That page turn is a “thing” that will always impact your work. When writing comics, most writers write to the page - what Ellis describes as the Page-as-Stanza approach. This isn’t the only unit - go look at the Hernandez Brothers - but it’s always a pressure. “How will these images look on this single unit of paper” is fundamentally what comics are about. Working out how much information can fit in a page and still have the effect you’re looking for.

This varies in many ways, not least with the artist you’re writing for. Some can be reverse engineered from artist’s previous work. Some can’t - artists surprise you all the time.

The length of the whole story is the other element - in many forms of comics, this is set. I primarily write 20 page American comics, which is an economic construct. I often try and break it in various ways, but that’s me - most people don’t. There’s other forms - the five page future shock for 2000AD, for example. Generally speaking, working in a commercial venue, this is set, and will only bend under extremely rare situations. Even as a pure underground indie writer, there can be an agreement of how long the story will be before starting writing it.

(Not least that you know if you make it too long, the artist will never finish drawing it. The chance of an artist not completing a real b&w indie work increases exponentially for every page you add. I’m only being semi-hyperbolic with that “exponentially”)

That means a story - or a component chapter in a larger story - basically consists of 20 larger narrative units which are subdivided into smaller narrative units.

(My intro to writing comics was Ellis’ 2000-era essays on the topic. He insists you read Dickens to understand serial chapter-based writing. He’s not wrong. That we think of 19th century novels as novels when many were published in serial is a very good analogy to thinking about comics. I think of most of my work as serial novels.)

Notice I say “Narrative units.” I go through periods where I count the number of panel transitions in a comic, when trying to work out how various effects are made.

Okay - that’s a bunch of theory, which I lay out, as it’s the fundamentals of thinking about this shit. As you may note, I lean analytic. Let’s move onto practice.

Basically, reading between the lines, your fear is that the hard limits of mainstream comic storytelling would lead to dead, lifeless work. If you have to plan a story so tightly to make sure it fits into the above form, the actual process is just typing, 

I understand that fear, and various writers take different approaches around it. Frankly, the “just typing” approach works for some writers. As I said above, a script isn’t like a story - a script is a blueprint. Maybe it’s okay to be cold. You can do all the creative work in the synopsis, and then “translate” it into comics.

Personally, I’m with you. That sounds really boring. The question becomes how to create improvisational and exploratory energies inside this larger structure.

First step is normally a synopsis, which depending on your instincts can be extremely detailed (akin to a short story) or hyper rough. I lean hyper-rough, for reasons you’ll see shortly. This is where you run with the idea, and explore what would happen.

(I suspect for a short story writer, the “synopsis that may even read like a short story” wouldn’t be a bad way in. You write the story, and then work out how to adapt it to comics.)

You then proceed to take the synopsis and break it into narrative units. How much space does this scene need? I normally go through and write a number by each of the scenes, which is my estimate of how many pages it’ll take.

You then add up the numbers, see how many pages the story is. If all is well in the world, you’ve hit 20. More likely, the number is 28 and you have a little swear for a while, then grab a cup of tea, and then work out how you can cram all this crap in.

(This is where the first part of the improvisational creativity comes in. Comics are a visual medium. As such, you’re trying to work out how you can compress visual information, and work out what’s important. What do you really need in here? If there’s just too much, can you edit it in a way which moves scenes to a future episode? This is why you read widely in comics to be aware of every single short-cut and trick you can, as you’re going to rip them all off as and when you need. Generally speaking, my books are at their most experimental-looking when I’m panicking trying to find something that works. I exaggerate, but only slightly.) 

After all that, I’ve got a scene list, with an amount of space in the story assigned to them.

I then write the scenes. Frankly, being me, I write them in almost any order. Brubaker tells me he always writes from beginning to end. I jump around, according to my whims. I see the whole story in my head at once, so it’s almost like painting by numbers on the aforementioned issue plan.

So it sounds like I’m just typing, right, as I’m filling this shit in? Well, yes and no. Sometimes when I’m writing the outline, I’ve hammered out a bunch of dialogue or visual data, and it’s a question of editing that to space (i.e. working out whether the dialogue can work in the space, whether important dialogue can be “acted” correctly by a character in the panel count, etc). Which is a fun creative job in its own way, but also very much the editor.

But remember me saying the outline can be really rough? I mean it’s really rough. It can be…


I know more about the beats than that, but often have no idea how the fight is going to go down, what are the hooks, the exact nature of the sacrifice, etc. I know the purpose of the scene, but not always beat for beat. I leave space in the hyper-tight planning to write and have fun.

(And then, due to me writing bits of the issue at once, going and editing things later or earlier to it all lines up. A good idea earlier needs to change later things… but with the structure in place, it all holds together.

Occasionally something does come up which entirely breaks the structure, in which case you just have to rewrite and hack things. Equally, your plan may be wrong - you realise you want 5 pages instead of 4 for that fight sequence to sell the spectacle or emotion or whatever, in which case you work out how you can edit another sequence to get back the page space.

Worth stressing, I used an action sequence as an example. This is also true for more verbal drama scenes. CHARACTER X DISCOVERS CHARACTER Y CHEATED ON THEM. CHARACTER X STORMS OFF. can be the outline, and then I get those two characters talking to each other and see what they have to say.

(You may recognise that one - it’s from WicDiv 16. I knew the bit with the bin as a visual element, but the rest I worked out on the page. After the whole thing was done, I saw the element of the pit running through and brought that out throughout. Edit, edit, edit.)

In short, I try to create places where I can play and discover within a specific space and form. The first place is in the synopsis itself. The second place is within the sub-element of the page. 

And I’m going to post this without re-reading, as otherwise I’ll be here all day.

EDIT: One more thing - Antony Johnson talks about a Zero Draft. I don’t always do it, but there’s certainly times when my rough synopsis looks a lot like it, especially when I’ve gone deep on the dialogue.

Eventually, you will leave me. And I am aware of that. I know there’s a possibility that I will wake up one morning without any trace of you on my bed. I will no longer feel your chest, your skin and your warmth. I know there’s a possibility that I will no longer hear your voice over the phone again, your stories and even your whispers at night. I know there’s a possibility that one of these days you will get tired of holding my hand, kissing my cheeks, understanding my mood and wiping all of my tears away. I know there’s a possibility that one of these days I will start counting my years again because you will fade slowly. I know, there’s a possibility that the smile I gave to you will disappear and be replaced with a new one. All of these things might happen - maybe tomorrow, the next day or even next week. I am aware of that. But before the skies take me away from you, let me say that I’m grateful that I have met someone like you. I’m glad that all of these things happened.