There’s a place on my head where I can feel the end of a gun pushing against my skull. I’ve felt it for as long as I can remember. Knowing there’s no reason makes it funny but it doesn’t make it fun. You still won’t want to be here when there’s nothing left to be. Wish you’d know just from looking into my eyes when I could use a hug. Sometimes it hurts to tell you. And there’s some days when I wish you’d find the time to ask me how I’m doing. Every day I’m happy you found me at all.