It's so easy to fall into the motions of living while not really living at all. It's so simple to take steps forward and see yourself moving advancing while simultaneously falling. Every single day, every single hour, every single minute, second, nanosecond, it's on my mind. I pray and I pray to erase what I've done, but life's about moving forward, not going back. So I have to feel every hit with intensified sensitivity and sit in silence while salt is being poured into the wound. These moments of stillness are beginning to kill me, while I learn that this is what I have to expect. Even if I received a gift, it would be empty. Patience, patience. It's barely been fifteen days. Yes, I'm keeping track. I'm measuring the pain and the increments in which it goes away. Some days I'll be fine, absolutely numb, but when I'm alone in my car, the windshield feels the wind from my lungs. I've never felt this way before. I've never felt this way before. Every glance that I get from anyone other than the one means nothing to me. Please, get out. Please, get out. Please, get out.