i woke up one day unaware of what had happened to my body. more importantly, how my body had determined what would happen in my life. the sadness was always there, just hanging around the corner when i thought i had beat the game, it was always close. there was joy too, hidden in dirt, and those basements in stranger's houses where we found eachother drunk and young and eager to touch and experience. we found eachother, and lost eachother, again and then again. it wasn't getting old, not yet. it was getting old and young, and falling in love too many time in the same week, month, year. i fell in love everyday, i was good at it. i would tell myself, this is me, this is what i do. i fall in love, all the fucking time. the drink took away what the love could not. drink made everything grey, hollow, blood in between the teeth the morning after. at night it got worse but it was always better. underneath those half burnt out broken lights, we would decide just what we were going to do with our lives. and then i met you, and then the joy was silent, open. some memory, lost and found. the stillness in my life at the time was profound. it was neither wanted nor not wanted. the air gets heavy. my body trapped in spiders webs, and i still got it all. sleeping in so many beds, each night focus on the color of the wall. so many colours, so many empty bottles and lines in the bathroom. explaining when i was really fucked up that i was just trying to get back to you. everything i did. every little and every big thing, just to get back to you. one more day, just like it was, in the beginning. - e.s