I feel it all slipping through my fingers. I stuck my fist into the dirt and up with my hand went the sands of time, and I felt all that was supposed to be ours slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I tried to squeeze them shut. I’d seen so far ahead into the future: already knew which way things were going to go. We weren’t supposed to feel the strain of binding things together until years later when we had outgrown the lives we were living and pushed against the glass ceilings we set for ourselves. We’re standing on borrowed time right now, and soon we’ll have to pay Mr. Grim for cheating the death of this thing. He will come to collect the debts we owe him, and I’m afraid you won’t hesitate to offer my soul to save yours. I’m afraid you will let me drown in my sorrows in Hell while you float your way up. I’m afraid of you because you don’t seem frightened to let this all go away. You say that you love me. But you’re not sure if you’re in love, and I wonder how in fourteen short days I went from being your whole world to an insignificant planet in a far off galaxy. I wonder when you stopped seeing stars when you gazed into my eyes. I wonder when things fell out of orbit and you felt yourself crashing towards the Sun.