Don't you remember?

Where have I gone?

I am nowhere.

Who am I?

I am no one.

What am I?

I am nothing.

Why, oh why?

Nobody knows.

When will this end?

It never will.

How long can this last?

It will go on forever.

An impromptu poem. It rather sums up how I felt most of today.

I hate being mood-swingy. I hate laughing one minute and crying the next. I'm not even PMSing.

We all know what's wrong. But we don't know why it affects me so much.

It's because I miss how it was. I miss the bad too. Don't you remember?

We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder

We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under

Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better

We belong, we belong together...

Don't you remember? At least Laura? Don't you remember?

How can that go away?

How can we stop belonging?

Don't you remember?

Don't you remember finding ghosts in Laura's basement, six of them, with pencils?

And discovering that the room in DC wasn't 1413 byt 1313? And Mrs. Schloemer didn't believe us. Remember?

Remember when the customer service lady at AT&T asked if we were small children, or her friends?

Remember when we watched the Breakfast Club?

Remember when we had to yell at Heather a million times to get off the phone?

Remember initiating Kaylyn on the trampoline?

Remember when Heather had to leave in the middle of a sleepover and we sang our nerves away?

"Make me an angel, that flies from Montgomery... Just give me one thing that I can hold on to..."

Don't you remember?

Now I've lost all that, I've lost those times forever. If real sisters fought over a boy, they wouldn't have any option but to reconcile. What does that tell you?

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears...

Never again? We still have three and a half years together. You never know what can happen.

Do you know what I wish for at 11:11?

Do you know what I cry about every time I hear My Immortal?

I've always wanted to have nothing to wish for.

I don't think that will ever happen again. 

I feel like we are a hollow shell of what we were. 

Like someone took our insides out. Like were one of those really good truffles, and someone broke us in half, scooped out our filling, and stuck the shell back together.

Maybe that's just what I feel like. 

Since I'm not sure what "we" are anymore, and who is Phunk and who isn't.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I've opened old wounds, but for me it's more like an infection that won't go away. It's there, sometimes I forget about it, but it's always there. 

I need you. 

Я огорченн.

Ya ogorchenn.

I'm sorry.

A Wordle.