i'm back from outer space

No matter how many times or how many people that I rehash the events and memory, it will never hold any significance. It’s fucked up in a way I can’t even fathom, how pointless all my ranting and speaking about you has been, because you will never know how I feel or how I felt then, or what was going through my mind. It was the line, the border between the familiar and the current. And the life after. And you won’t know it. We will never talk about it. We will never speak about anything like it again.

We will act like we’re dead.