But there isn’t. And I need her to know that.
When I’m gone, she’s going to blame herself. She’s going to build walls higher than any I’ve seen. She’s going to decide that the only way to survive is never to love like this again.
And I need her to know—that would break my heart more than dying.
I don’t want her to move on quickly. I don’t want her to forget me or pretend I didn’t matter.
But I want her to live.
I want her to take risks again. To let someone close. To stop trying to control everything and just... exist. Messy and imperfect and beautifully, terrifyingly human.
If she finds someone who sees her the way I do—who won’t let her hide, who makes her laugh, who reminds her she’s allowed to be afraid—I want her to let them in.
I want her to choose living over surviving.
Even if it’s hard. Especially if it’s hard.
Because that’s what love is. Not control. Not management. Not trying to prevent every possible loss.
Love is showing up anyway.
Maggie read it three times, tears streaming down her face.
Then she picked up her phone and started typing.
Not to Evie—not yet.
To herself.
Things I Know:
I love Evie Brooks
I’m terrified of losing her
I’m terrified of losing myself
I’ve been choosing fear over courage for six years
Sarah would tell me to stop being an idiot
