“The road goes on forever and the party never ends,” he said in his Facebook status. Remember that, in 2007? Perhaps he’s living in a desert - isn’t that where they all go, when the skeletons in the closet get buried beneath us? I thought this account got reported, at least, is anyone listening at the key hole that is my poems? I wonder about people, their words. I wonder if life is a party, or if that road leads to a stop sign somewhere in the tundra, at a red light we call nostalgia.

I'm not the person I was then, with all the good bad and ugly attached to these words. I have lost and gained my sense of "self" a thousand times, drowned and saved myself a million more, and maybe it's all okay. There isn't a particular guideline to life that we are required to follow. I will simply search for life until I die trying.

How odd to go from your largest challenge in life being staying alive, to your largest challenge in life becoming living.

Destroying yourself because of the things you saw while staying alive, because of the things you did to stay alive, and because of the people who didn't live. What a mind fuck.