I need to feel alive again.
So many crusty layers of rigid protocol surround my mind and heart, once fresh and vivid with color.
Seeing him again was good for me, far too good.
But now I long for him, to see him, hear him, feel him.
I do wish he'd come back.
As of now that's what I'm living for, why I'm putting up with being shoved in a direction that I don't want to go.
My lungs need fresh air.