There’s no wisdom in 24 years of life. I just go on drives. On hope and wishful thinking. But I know somethings. I know myself. I know I love you. I know I need you. Like oxygen. And lately I can’t breath. I need you. Like oxygen. Please. I miss you. I need to miss you. It keeps me grounded. Same. Keeps me at peace. I tell you. I love you in grand fashion. Grander than those myths. Than those fables. Grander than a Shakespearean play. Yes. I love you in all consuming fashion. It’s what keeps this body moving. And I haven’t heard from you since the fall of Rome. I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know myself. Anymore.