Memory is a tenuous thing, like a rainbow's end or a camera with a failing lens.

And almost instantly, Daddy made everything seem just fine. Even when it wasn't.

Just keep on shining that light. The rest will take care of itself.

I don't love him, & he definitely doesn't love me. Still, he semi-fills a gaping black hole inside me. That place wants love, maybe even needs love, but love is something I"m pretty sure doesn't exist.

Love means holding on to someone just as hard as you can because if you don't, one blink and they might disappear...forever.

Funny thing, your brain, how it always functions on one level or another. How, even stuck in some sort of subconcious limbo, it works your lungs, your muscle twitches, your heart, in fact, in symphony with your heart, allowing it to feel love. Pain. Jealousy. Guilt. I wonder if it’s the same for people, lost in comas. Is there really such a thing

Something stirred beneath my skin, some being inside I'd only suspected existed, demon or angel, I couldn't say.