I don’t want to be her grief. I don’t want to be any part of the reason she feels the need to curl her fingers into fists or keep her walls up around herself. I don’t even want to be her everything. I want her heart to beat easily the second she wakes up in the morning. I want her to smile for the sake of smiling. Laugh, cry tears of joy, skip around until she’s shitting fucking rainbows. I want her to be happy. And if everyone has to die for that to happen, then I better get good at digging graves.
