...and we'll see what happens when we say Yes while this rigor mortis world screams No.

Here we are on the road. We must be going somewhere.

That's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.

I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.

...wanting change is step one, but step two is taking it.

There is a chasm between me and the world outside of me. A gap so wide my feelings can't cross it. By the time my screams reach the other side, they have dwindled into groans.

I don't want to hear music, I don't want the sunrise to be pink. The world is a liar. Its ugliness is overwhelming; the scraps of beauty make it worse.