That was where you last left me.
Are you proud of yourself?
I think you are.
I think that you couldn't be any fucking happier than you are right fucking now.
Even though you're not technically there anymore.
But I can feel it.
I can feel your eyes on me.
I can feel the heat of your glare.
I hate it.
But I don't think that I have any control over that.
So, let's take a trip back in time.
A flashback, if you will.
Let's recall the first time.
Let's go back to the memories.
Let's go back to the bruises.
Let's go back to the scars.
