bradbury says a day without writing is like a death. i believe him.
i'm tired of being alone
and moving away or pushing away
the ones who love me.

I grabbed his hand and almost broke every bone in it, gasping. Then I called Mexico.
"Peg!"
"Who is this?"
"It's me, me!"
"My God, you sound so strange, so far away."
"I am far away."
"You're alive, thank God."
...
"How's Mexico City?...Lord, it's good to hear your voice."
"Say something."
I said something.
"Say it again!"
"Why are you shouting, Peg?"
"I don't know. Yes, I do...Do you remember my face?" she said suddenly.
"What?"
"You do remember it, don't you, because, God, just an hour ago this terrible, horrible thing happened, I couldn't remember yours, or the color of your eyes, and I realized what a dumb fool I was not to bring your picture along, and it was all gone. That scares me, to think I could forget. You'll never forget me, will you?"
I didn't tell her I had forgotten the color of her eyes just the day before and how that had shaken me for an hour and that it was a kind of death but me not being able to figure who had died first, Peg or me.
"Does my voice help?"
"Yes."
"Am I there with you? Do you see my eyes?"
"Yes...I should never have come down here and left you alone up there, unprotected."
...
"Can love protect people, Peg?"
"It must. If it doesn't protect you, I'll never forgive God. Let's keep talking. As long as we talk, love's there and you're okay...I hate to hang up and I just want this to go on all day and I know it's costing you a mint. Say some more, the things I want to hear."
I said some more.
And she was gone

from death is a lonely business, one of the weirdest books i have ever picked up. and yet, there you go.