We're fumbling in the dark, but at least we're in motion.

I can feel it... the chance to start over, to live right, to love right, to burn up in a fiery cloud and never again be buried in the mud.

Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.

Sometimes it's a struggle to live in the moment.

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

I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.

What happened to the world was gradual. I've forgotten what it actually was, but I have faint, fetal memories of what it was like. A smoldering dread that never really caught fire till there wasn't much left to burn. Each sequential step surprised us. Then one day we woke up, and everything was gone.