This is all so ridiculous: I used to be brave. And now I cower in the background, my silly little words hanging limp in the air — curdling in my mouth from fear. What would you say? What will you think? And I’m not sure if you are who you were. Who I thought you were. Who I need you to be. I’m really not sure of anything. So I just stand here, locked in silence by fear, as time slowly erases what little is left of us. Knowing if only I could speak, I might salvage something of what is left. But I’m not sure I can.