What happened to the nights when I had a cigarette hanging off of my lips, my hair flying in my face not so gracefully, but we would speed over the hills and through those winding roads with our feet not touching the ground and our hands clasped tight, just talking, just getting familiar with each other's faces. Blinking back tears because my stomach muscles were cramping up, you have the greatest sense of humor. You look like the character Emmit. I need you, not like all those times before I really need you to tell me that I'm going to come out of this okay. Will you be there when I'm glazed in fluorescent light, when my wires and veins sync, will you? Ironically it is your job to do this for others on a daily basis.
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