The next time you feel like you are falling:
Hold my hand. Tight. I don’t care if you rip it off and take it with you to the ground, so long as you always carry a piece of me with you.
The next time you feel like whispering bad things to yourself at 3 am when the color of the sky matches how you feel on the inside, pick up the phone. No, I was not sleeping, I haven’t done that for a while.
The next time you trip over your own feet:
Hold me. Tight. squeeze my hand, my shoulders, squeeze my throat. so long as you balance out your emotions.
The next time you shout nasty things in your own head, Count to 3- count to 10, count all of the times I’ve said that I love you and then pick up the phone so you can keep counting.