“The truth is I’m terrified. Fear fills my gut at the thought of new beginnings and loud endings that go out with a bang, spraying loose shards that lodge deep in fragile flesh. I know how it feels to be left behind, to be forgotten in a sea of more interesting conquests. But, I don’t know for sure. Maybe your heart still races when you replay the last argument of our final act. Maybe the bitter, unadulterated burning you feel in the heat of your chest when you picture me is really hurt, but you couldn’t put a name to it, so you called it anger. See, I have a lot of misdiagnosed feelings too. Sometimes I itch and I itch and I itch at the arm I think is screaming out for help, only to find relief when I finally acknowledge my leg. I don’t claim to know how the brain processes hurt, or love, or pain, but it’s scary being held hostage and forced to feel. Emotions drown me like I’m no match for an adequately timed tidal wave and, let me say, sinking is a slow, painful process. It’s just me and my thoughts alone on the ocean floor, and not once do I ever forget it.”

“Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.”