↳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

xxii

i feel as if we are constantly replaying over and over a one act play in which we float facedown in the center of a lake. it's a position known as the dead man's float, one that we used to do in this very lake as little children to scare our mothers and then we would jump up and thrash around in the water and swim to her and smile and shout, "tricked ya!"

everything that is on fire can't be saved.

and everything that is saved cannot be set on fire.

but somewhere along the lines of this chaos and destruction, the entire lake turns over and we're now floating faceup.

did you say something?

i said, i love you.