David, depression, memoir, memories, Uncategorized

Bring on the Tacky Shit

"I dream he has his hand around my neck, his face close to mine with that determined gaze of his. I know he doesn’t ever think about me anymore. I know that these dreams are irrational, especially now that the likelihood of us ever being in the same city again is slim – that’s what… Continue reading Bring on the Tacky Shit