Stavanger Bay Tell me I'm weighing on your mind

You don't know what I've done - to her, to Lestan, A raw whisper, voice breaking. Reverie was spiralling, and if she had the sense to stop and think about it, she might have felt bad for dumping all of this on Bridget. But she didn't. Sometimes I think - this is what I deserve.
She pulled away and wiped her face, suddenly angry with herself as the realization struck her: she was doing to Bridget what she'd done to Arric, what she'd done to Gunnar, what she did to everyone who listened. I'm - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - dumped all of that on you. Reverie tried to compose herself, and failed; she started to cry again almost as soon as she'd stopped.
You care too much, Bridget had said, and it reminded her starkly of what Lestan had told her. That he did not want to be the beginning and the end; that she loved him too much. I don't know how to stop being afraid of - losing them. They're all I have, really. Is it - is it such a bad thing, to want to keep them? There was a raw vulnerability to her gaze now, something a little desperate. She wanted Bridget to tell her that it was okay to want that, that she would not lose them. She wanted promises that the healer could not make, and she knew it.