It's a pizza place called the Rebellion. Fried snickers bars. The genius of the oven and the silliness of crumbs in the bed. The things I didn't say and the things I really meant. When I left angry in the dark and drove to get ice cream. Dancing in the kitchen, back and forth til I could breath again. The taste of Saison Du Brittaney and knowing it was mine. The guitar case beneath the upside down picture on the shelf. The filters and the ash. Pesto pasta in a cheese pie pan. Snooze. And that mother fucking rooster alarm clock. Sorbet with stolen spoons. A tent for two. Skinny dipping with strangers. A hidden creek. A lie. A fight. Some tears and a sorry Thirsty Thursday. Sleep rape. Holding hands. Wishing to leave. Wishing I hadn't left. Going back for one last look. And wishing I had been enough."How can the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive?"