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Description
Your strength and fragility is astounding to me. What drives a person to go on this long, despite all the horrible things that have occurred to them? From things as small as a stuttering step to as large as death, you've pushed through the muck and grime of life and seem to be finding a light at the end of the tunnel.

But much to your dismay, that light is still so far off, isn't it? You can feel its seductive warmth tickle your chilled flesh, and see its light reflecting off your pallid skin. Still, it's too far for you to be enveloped in it. You want it to embrace you, don't you? You want the sweet light of life to warm you to the marrow of your bones, and take you to the paradise that tingles sweetly on the tip of your tongue. It is something akin to the light of death, even though that light seems much more pleasant in the darkness you're forced to endure.

Don't give up hope. Hold that light of life close to you, and let it illuminate the gloom that permeates your weakened body. You have someone to live for. You have many that want you to live. You can't fall to the temptation of the blade or that stunning red, nor can you fall to the thought of being as thin as the fake models you see in magazines--or worse, thinner than them.

You are unable to retain warmth, aren't you? Without the insulating fat that rests thinly on the average human's bones, you must be chilled quite horridly. Allow me to warm you. Come into my arms and let me hold you close. Let me be your substitute. I am often told that I am like a fire, fleeting but burning hot. I radiate that exotic heat, and I wish to warm you so intimately with it. Don't you crave that heat, or have you become numb to that? I do hope that you haven't.

I wish to run my fingers over those bony arms, to play your ribcage like a violin, down over those jutting hips, to map out your frail body and somehow inject my own strength into you. I want to heal your wounds, to be the crutch for your broken heart and mind. Even just for a little, let me hold you up to the sky and let the world see how wonderful you are. I have not seen all of you, but does physical beauty really matter? Is it not what's on the inside that counts? Doesn't that count for anything anymore?

It matters not how thin you are, nor how large you may think you are. You are beautiful in the eyes of someone--and even if that someone is only me, that's one more than zero, is it not? Do numbers even matter? If there is just one person in the world that cares, shouldn't that be enough? It's far better to have just one friend that truly cares than a million that don't give a damn. I am not one of those million.

I will be there for you when you feel like no one else is. At least, I'll try my best to be. Even though I do not know you in the real world, I will hold your head high, and stroke that thinned hair of yours to comfort you. I will wipe away those thick tears, and mop up that thin blood. I will whisper sweet words of reassurance, and pepper your face with kisses of a butterfly.

If this said nothing else to you, let it say at least this:

You are not alone.

I am here with you,

right next to you,

holding your hand so tightly,

that I fear I might just break it.

But I know that I can't--

for you are fragile, but unbelievably strong.

These are words from the heart,

words from your new, dear friend

that shares the same birthday

the same age

as you.

These words come from Chris.

And they only speak the truth.

Description
Your strength and fragility is astounding to me. What drives a person to go on this long, despite all the horrible things that have occurred to them? From things as small as a stuttering step to as large as death, you've pushed through the muck and grime of life and seem to be finding a light at the end of the tunnel.

But much to your dismay, that light is still so far off, isn't it? You can feel its seductive warmth tickle your chilled flesh, and see its light reflecting off your pallid skin. Still, it's too far for you to be enveloped in it. You want it to embrace you, don't you? You want the sweet light of life to warm you to the marrow of your bones, and take you to the paradise that tingles sweetly on the tip of your tongue. It is something akin to the light of death, even though that light seems much more pleasant in the darkness you're forced to endure.

Don't give up hope. Hold that light of life close to you, and let it illuminate the gloom that permeates your weakened body. You have someone to live for. You have many that want you to live. You can't fall to the temptation of the blade or that stunning red, nor can you fall to the thought of being as thin as the fake models you see in magazines--or worse, thinner than them.

You are unable to retain warmth, aren't you? Without the insulating fat that rests thinly on the average human's bones, you must be chilled quite horridly. Allow me to warm you. Come into my arms and let me hold you close. Let me be your substitute. I am often told that I am like a fire, fleeting but burning hot. I radiate that exotic heat, and I wish to warm you so intimately with it. Don't you crave that heat, or have you become numb to that? I do hope that you haven't.

I wish to run my fingers over those bony arms, to play your ribcage like a violin, down over those jutting hips, to map out your frail body and somehow inject my own strength into you. I want to heal your wounds, to be the crutch for your broken heart and mind. Even just for a little, let me hold you up to the sky and let the world see how wonderful you are. I have not seen all of you, but does physical beauty really matter? Is it not what's on the inside that counts? Doesn't that count for anything anymore?

It matters not how thin you are, nor how large you may think you are. You are beautiful in the eyes of someone--and even if that someone is only me, that's one more than zero, is it not? Do numbers even matter? If there is just one person in the world that cares, shouldn't that be enough? It's far better to have just one friend that truly cares than a million that don't give a damn. I am not one of those million.

I will be there for you when you feel like no one else is. At least, I'll try my best to be. Even though I do not know you in the real world, I will hold your head high, and stroke that thinned hair of yours to comfort you. I will wipe away those thick tears, and mop up that thin blood. I will whisper sweet words of reassurance, and pepper your face with kisses of a butterfly.

If this said nothing else to you, let it say at least this:

You are not alone.

I am here with you,

right next to you,

holding your hand so tightly,

that I fear I might just break it.

But I know that I can't--

for you are fragile, but unbelievably strong.

These are words from the heart,

words from your new, dear friend

that shares the same birthday

the same age

as you.

These words come from Chris.

And they only speak the truth.