Sometimes I wish I could forget you. But, then I remember you’re probably too ingrained in my life to forget you and still be myself. Sometimes the sorrow will hit me so fast and hard that it feels like a bullet-train in space, no tracks, no care, where it is headed or where is has come from. I start to wonder what it would have been like if I would have had all this time that has passed with you. On some level I am foolish to be holding on to nothing. Most days it feels like nothing at least. But I have to believe those thoughts go somewhere. Somewhere that they are heard. Where you can feel them. I saw a comic once of a girl flicking a speck of dust, or a pollen grain, or some small thing of insignificance off her elbow. She went through the day with a smile on her face. Maybe that’s like what this intangible string is… a connection which one may forget completely and another may feel to the greatest degree. — Being that speck vaulted into the unknown, unequipped, but still oddly connected to that which it left. Save a synapse for me. I’ll save two for you.