To be honest, they were the greatest romance of the summer. No, my own romances, however dramatic and incomprehensible, however poetic even, cannot compare to a drop of what they had, what we had. So, it is with the greatest, greatest relief that I'll crawl to bed tonight knowing that important people, important people are still here. Of course, after 14 hours of work, I'm not sure I can think through this fog of fatigue. I keep on pushing... keep on pushing for some outstretched boundary. Sometimes I feel like I'm on speed, a drug that pushes me to get more pain, get more pain, like my mind is programmed to only get off when there's pain, for gain, and nothing else matters. It's the only way I can get off anymore. Mentally. Physically. It's the only way I can feel alive, like I matter, like I exist.
A flywheel that can't be stopped, but, at least, with you, in that world we constructed, the ground feels a little more solid.