I want the days when i felt it back. i want to crawl out into the black of the garden at night. i'll try to catch my breath for a few minutes and attempt to find the words to tell you what i'm losing every breath, killing myself for. and i know all the best humans in my life are right around the corner, burning down the kitchen or watching Archer or singing along with Jenny, high as fucking kites. six years removed and i can still hear the murmur of your voices louder than whatever this human wreck in front of me is trying to communicate. trying and failing to speak at all. holy fuck. I don't know if it would have changed anything, but you know that i'd give abso-fucking-lutely anything to speak up while we were all still alive. before we died. i want it back.