What if we are truly pathetic, clinging things that hold on to imaginary hope? Or so what if we're just smaller stars that can't even be seen in a universe so complex? What if we're just here for the ride? Or we're just riding, afraid to ask it to stop? Maybe we just got lost in our words. In what we meant to say or didn't. How we've held ourselves accountable for a deadly silence. Where it strickens our hearts with grief to even think about it or to make our eyes water with sadness.