I started cutting up the strings on my dream catcher. I guess I was hoping that they would somehow come true if I shook them out. The only thing that's happened is that I started bleeding. I don't know whether it was from my heart or the fact that there's a blade in my hand and I'm slowly remembering how I used to use it. These empty hallways have such a resemblance to cemeteries. The walls hold pictures of our memories. Each frame is a gravestone for a time when I was happy. My life is haunted by the concept that we had once completed each other. The ghost of our love's past and the future it never got to see. You can give someone the world and they'll just throw it back in your face. I guess it wasn't good enough. It always felt like we were born from the same star. Spending all of forever searching for a way back home. They say all air is recycled. God I hope that's true. I stare at the ceiling in the middle of the night taking deep breaths, I hope there's still traces of you.