• my right hand with a cold death grip on the wrist on my left hand. this isn't simply another battle. i pretend the dead have returned so i don't become frightened. how long can books, movies, and music sustain a person? how long can thoughts about valour, honesty, hope, and love sustain their spirits? how long till they want the real thing? dreams are like the true or false section of any test. never a pattern, unless we're being taught by a fool. and trust me. whoever is teaching us is not a fool. my highest achievement turned into my greatest shame. just some field work, according to the teacher. they all want a piece of me. this is like the house party gone out of control. i invited this. and it invited more. i wish i had either the strength to give up, or the strength to keep going. and the courage to follow through. this is just asking too much. this is war.

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