More often than not, I feel like a head case taking up space.
I mean, maybe it's less often than not? Who knows? I can't keep track of the hours, the days, the months, the friends, the loss, the love, and the dreams.
The dreams. I reach for them and feel them soak into my skin like smoke.
Are they there? Are they gone? Are they with me? Without?
Are you there?
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