I hate when you say I have it worse than you do, you say this to me with a shaved head and a threat of death hanging over your shoulder, but you say it like it means nothing. You laugh like you didn’t spend all of yesterday sleeping or lying awake in bed because it hurt too much to do anything else. You just spent weeks in a hospital again, but somehow you stand there like a pillar of strength when my cancerous mind can take no more. When my mind becomes a battlefield, all sharp edges and land minds and you tell me that I have it worse?
I sit here and don’t know how to respond to that, because I look at you and I am so afraid of losing you. I remember the first time you told me you had cancer, I was scared, and when it went into remission I am not religious but I would have kissed god’s feet. When you said it came back. I was petrified, I was hearing echoes of your laughter in my head and I wasn’t sure you were going to make it through this time.
You tell me tha