And Just Like That, The Universe Goes

Deep Down, You See, I Long To Be Arcane, Esoteric. I Would Love To Confound People With Their Own Language.

When He Talked To You, You Seemed To Fit In, But When Someone Else Was Talking, Or He Would Be Distracted, You Jsut Looked Lonely Over There. At Least To Me. But Whenever I Would Tell You That, You'd Say "i'm Fine. I Just Slip Out Of It, You Know?" And I'd Say "i'll Catch You," And You Would Say, "it's Not The Kind Of Slipping You Can Catch.

Jesus Died For Our Sins," Noah Says Solemnly. "what?!?" I Reply, Choking Back My Thoughts. "i Was Just Seeing If You Were Listening.

We Wish We Could Have Been There For You. We Didn't Have Many Role Models Of Our Own--we Latched On To The Foolish Love Of Oscar Wilde And The Well-versed Longing Of Walt Whitman Because Nobody Else Was There To Show Us An Untortured Path. We Were Going To Be Your Role Models. We Were Going To Give You Art And Music And Confidence And Shelter And A Much Better World. Those Who Survived Lived To Do This. But We Haven't Been There For You. We've Been Here. Watching As You Become The Role Models.

I Couldn't Fault Her For Believing, Because I Had To Imagine I Was Nice To Have That Illusion Still Intact.