

A Foreword, Of SortsI need you to understand something.A Foreword, Of Sorts
I write to fulfill a need. This need is a deep-rooted desire to complete a life so short and empty that I can't even fathom why it had to cease to exist. I need for her to live as if life weren't as it was, weren't so determined to yank her out of the earth premature to her ripening, like a wildflower mistaken for a weed.
If I could control destiny in the way I write, I would've traded her. She's be alive, healthy, thriving in this world of sharp turns and bright indiscretions.
And I'd be dead.
Not to say that I want to be dead. I just so want