The early summer sky was the color of yellow sunshine and fresh cat vomit. The sweet bitter smell of vanilla and cigarette smoke filled the humid windy air. As I floated in our neighbor, Ms. Wagners, swimming pool. While feeding my ears my mothers idea of "perverted devil music." Which would be 'Black Sabbath' and 'Nirvana' on records. Thoughts of last summer flooded my brain with plaid shirts and sun kissed shoulders. I'm not sure why the night you whispered to us through the fog and your held breath,'Go, go, go!' has never really left my brain. It seems that night is on repeat. Everything else is just kind of a blur. It reminds me of a better time. Everything seemed to change after that moment, and I feel less and less like stars and riverboats lately. Like holes in pockets filled with what ifs. I don't make sense anymore, because I once relied on the world to make sense for me, and all that was cut short when July 17th happened, and the sky turned to charcoal in my head. I still cant feel my heart beat, and I'm just trying to wait out the storm now, but the rain hasn't let up once yet. I believe it will one day, and that's what keeps me going. I also believe very very deeply that I think to much. So much that I make myself sick. If only they had a passport out of the past and into reality, my head wouldn't be so much like an unknown galaxy of clustered burning gas.