when I sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds

Do you remember when I was seventeen and I felt so sure of myself and calm and self-righteous?
You did that to me, you got me moving, you got me thinking and then you left. It's been a downward spiral since the first day of senior year when my English teacher asked us who we are and why and then told us that we don't know, that we can't know the answer at that time in our lives. I really, really thought I knew. I spent the whole summer feeling right and free and mostly happy and that September I really did think I knew.

I think that image I had in my mind of who I was was only a partial one. It was very romanticized. Man, I was a dreamer. More then than I ever have been and it drifted away day by day until graduation.

I didn't know it at the time, but March 28th would be lethal to me, to who I thought I was. I really thought I was okay. I don't think anything felt final to me at the time. March 28th planted itself in my gut and attacked my insides until it broke me.

I want today to be the start of the turnaround. Two years is much, much, much too long to live with a tumor like that holding you down.