T minus one hour until your names read on a wall in Nashville.
As the title says. Less than an hour until I record your name being read on a wall dedicated to those we've lost to suicide. If I had a choice, I'd want to be there. But since COVID has once again reeked it's havoc, my inner social butterfly is super excited to be doing it from home. I've gone through like three manic episodes in the last hour. Where I can't stop shaking. I can't breathe.... && If I sit still that's it. Hence why I'm doing this now. Breathing, writing. Trying to remember the good. It was supposed to be beautiful. && Now, all I can think of is how sad it is, that you're going to be on a wall, because life is shit. I fucking miss you man. It's been, way too damn long. && I'm honestly terrified of doing this without you. Because at some point in life, I'll be alone. && Again I feel selfish as shit for even thinking that. Because at the same time, I understand all too well.... All.. too...