feeling less whole than i might've hoped. i'm misplacing everything. i don't know where it goes. i'm humming all the time to keep pressure in my mouth, cause i don't want the quiet to come sell me out. and i count the weeks that my friend doesn't sleep, but i drag him by his hair to come care for me. i feel i'm raring to start putting things--my hands and my head--just where they need to be. keep staring straight. you're putting all your time into betting that heaven will be there when these walls disintegrate. put that in your head. hang onto it.