The time might have passed, the clock has run out, and I'm here with empty hands. I've spent these years, I've handed out my days and I'm down to the last little bit. And still feeling numb, still feeling careless as the trash piles up in my car and I drive around this town that feels full of love and ache all the time. I've driven these same streets so often, my car tires must have worn grooves in the tar, as evidence that I've been here. I've BEEN here, and I've loved here and I've become here. And how do I explain that maybe we've become the same thing? I know we're made out of the same stuff, you and I. How do I tell you that we match up? And it's hard. I know that it's really fucking difficult and you don't like that.

Can we put that on the shelf for a bit? Be young? Throw off the darkness and forget that I've aged in this past year more than I've aged in my whole life?