I can't tell you what I remember of myself anymore. It's all bits and pieces, fragmented shards of beautiful glass and twisted metal. My life is a series of productive car crashes. You pick up the pieces and move on taking out of the situation what you may. It's weird to be stable. It took me forever to figure out why I feel strange and it's because I'm stable. Stability is far more nerve wrecking for me than living moment to moment. I feel like I was just waiting for something to go wrong. On the edge of my seat for no reason. It's weird always knowing what tomorrow will bring. Where you have to stay. What you have to do. I'm used to being haphazard. I think It took Saturday and Sunday to completely embrace this. And strangely enough you taking care of my delirious sick ass on Sunday morning put everything at ease. I love that you take care of me when I can't. I love seeing you everyday. I love making you happy. You make stability seem so damn appealing.