Nothing Exists But Him.

I Screamed Until My Voice Dried Up In My Throat. We All Did. All Of Us In Ward Six, All Of Us Forgotten, Left To Rot.

I Start To Back Away Before I Do Something Wildly Inappropriate, Like Jump On Top Of Him.

Unhappiness Is Bondage; Therefore, Happiness Is Freedom.

But This Isn’t Like Anything I’ve Ever Seen, Or Imagined, Or Even Dreamed: This Is Like Music Or Dancing But Better Than Both.

His Eyes Are The Color Of Honey. These Are The Eyes I Remember From My Dreams.