the path between me and that time has grown so long so quickly. two years in a matter of days, vivid as today in memories that now seem so impossibly out of reach. I never locked my door; it led to not my room, but a home I shared with strangers I loved as family. the shower head cries softly all night long. with little between it and the pillows on which I sleep, it scores my dreams and perpetual confusions. 
and I don’t know if this is where I should be heading, and it’s all a little scary. I forget what I’ll learn again soon, only to prolong forgetting it all again. I miss and I miss and rejoice and complain. <<
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