As I thought about that, I had to wonder: What will we know better about tomorrow? Who cares? Hindsight is useless.

Would I ever find forever love? Do I really want to, when forever was a word without meaning?

In my limited realm of experience, beginnings led to endings.

So when he asked about getting high, I didn't think, I agreed. We smoked some good California green. Took three tries to put me in the place he said I should be.

Forever made that kiss stand out in my mind, touch my heart, make me remember a kiss so tender.

In fact, since the accident, Mom doesn't love anyone. She is marble. Beautiful. Frigid. Easily stained by her family. What's left of us anyway. We are corpses. At first, we sought rebirth. But resurrection devoid of her love has made us zombies. We get up every morning, skip breakfast, hurry off to work or school. For in those other places, we are more at home. And sometimes we stagger beneath the weight of grief, the immensity of aloneness.

How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?