She tells me she is feeling better, with a smile on her face and a voice that does not falter, and I believe her. I believe her and I listen to the words as they roll off her tongue and I feel as though I am better myself.

 –

I am the architect for most of the anxiety I feel – the artist that designs the things that I must worry about and paints myself among everything that I fear. And I have not learned my lesson – I have not learned how to paint new pictures. 

 –

 Do not doubt her. Do not make up the plot to her story and designate what kind of character role you play. Do not underestimate her. Do not decide how much her plate can hold when she has managed her serving sizes for many years on her own. Do not second-guess her. She cannot be understood by mismatched assumptions and vague conclusions. Do not overcomplicate her. She will tell you everything you need to know, if you only decide she is worth it to ask.  

–

 What is that place – between feelings and the lack of – between wanting something and wanting it only because it’s not what you can have. What is that emotion – the one you feel when something you never wanted gets taken away from you – and you wonder if maybe you did want it at one point in time.

–

And she went over to his place and after he finished asking her his list of questions, she asked him what makes him cry. And I wish we asked questions like these more often. I wish we weren’t so comfortable floating at the surface, on our backs, barely noticing our surroundings. I wish we cared about the people in front of us enough to ask questions that make palms sweat and hearts beat – the type of questions that demand that there ought to be more important things below the surface.