This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.

What kind of world is this? And what do you do about it? What do you do when the worst thing that can happen actually happens?

Remember how it was when we kissed? Armfuls and armfuls of light thrown right at us. A rope dropping down from the sky. How can the word love and the word life even fit in the mouth?

Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.

That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.

Let me just unsubscribe to my own mind already, because I don't get any of it.

He's bent over the strings tuning his guitar with such passionate attention I almost feel I should look away but I can't. In fact I'm full on gawking wondering what it would be like to be cool and casual and fearless and passionate and so freaking alive just like he is- and for a split second I want to play with him. I want to disturb the birds. Later as he plays and plays as all the fog burns away I think he's right. That's exactly it- I am crazy sad and somewhere deep inside all I want is to fly.