If you were water, I'd die of thirst.

I'm home.

And now it doesn't much feel like I left.

And I remember that night that I cried in that room, that happened both two nights ago and a year ago,
though both remarkably about very similar ordeals,

And how I reached out and I read my book and I listened to my music and
none of it was working

and then I wrote a page of poetry and that was that.

Love, Laura.