>> Sometimes I wonder why you had to leave and what his memories are of you. He's told me, but I wish I could see them in his head like I see mine. What do the empty rooms of his mind feel like when these ambiguous clouds hover next door, hissing electric? I think of how brave you were for waking up in the mornings or afternoons, even when we knew you’d never survive in this dream. I love you for fighting for yourself, and for us, even when we cursed you and I decided to leave my body. You took me to school one morning when you had to take a stand, for us, and we got in a bit of a wreck with a mailbox but nobody saw and I was only there long enough to remember that I'd never forgive myself for this, but I have, and I have to remind myself of that. Why did you have to be so strong when I said no in the shower? I laid there, curled up for hours as the warm rain danced along my skin to a rhythm I wasn't able to feel as I sat trying to wash off demons that will only leave when I learn to hug them, and let them spend the night. Then I know you would be proud of us. I was so sad then. I remember crying so hard when I saw your empty eyes and pulled your body out of bed by the arm. They wanted me to put my breath into you, but I knew it would be hollow. I was so alive and so removed, caught between this perception of reality and visiting you. Do you feel me?