I’m Going To Be Mentally Ill In

I Can't. You Can't Rewrite The Past.

We Didn't Get That Chance Because I Was Afraid. Afraid I Had No Chance With You.

I Want To Look Back. To Look Over My Shoulder And See The Stop Sign With Huge Reflective Letters, Pleading With Hannah. Stop!

And I Walked For Hours The Mist Growing Thick And Whole The Thought Of Disappaering Like That, So Simply, Made Me So Happy

And What If In The Future We're At War Again, Or We Still Haven't Elected A Non-white Or Non-male President, Or The Rolling Stones Are Still Dragging Their Tired Old Butts On Stage? That Would Depress Me Way Too Much.