Last night, I was sure I was growing nerves. I could feel them like branches twisting through my veins & around my bones & it felt like asphyxiation at its worst. There were stars outside & in the places where your eyes used to be but they weren't real. They were made out of paper & your bones were made out of paper & we danced in the driveway but neither of us are going to remember it in three years. & In three years you'll be somewhere & I'll be nowhere or here which is worse than nowhere. In three years, you'll be someone & something & I'll be no one & nothing & that's how it was always supposed to be, right?