But it does make me sad that we've forgotten our names. Out of everything, this seems to me the most tragic. I miss my own and I mourn for everyone else's, because I'd like to love them, but I don't know who they are.

Even in my bravest moment, I am a coward.

My favorite songs change every year.

I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.

I feel the flatline of my existence disrupting, forming heartbeat hills and valleys

I wonder how well she sleeps at night, and what kind of dreams she has. I wish I could step into them like she steps into mine.

All my life I have battled the alarm clock, pummeling the snooze button over and over with mounting self-loathing until the shame is finally strong enough to lever me upright.