for as long as i had a conscience, my life has always been calculated. never so rash. but in my mind i tore everything new and glistening, and i left and i never came back and i never apologized and i laughed so loud my voice was a sick shrill and i had no shame for it. but in this world, i wait patiently. i am filled with apologies and niceties. i keep my voice quiet, even — and i always return. like a nervous dog or an abandoned child, i keep my head down and i always return. always dreaming.