You Can Count The Dead, But You

We Stumble On, Thinks Jaslyn, Bring A Little Noise Into The Silence, Find In Others The Ongoing Of Ourselves. It Is Almost Enough.

Where Happiness Was Not A Possibility, The Illusion Of It Was Always More Important.

There's A Part Of Me That Thinks Perhaps We Go On Existing In A Place Even After We've Left It.

This Is Not My Life. These Are Not My Cobwebs. This Is Not The Darkness I Was Designed For.

Ultimately, You Can Only Ever Write What You Know. It's Logically And Philosophically Impossible To Write What You Don't Know.