What else was there to say? The white noise had subsided and now I was left with these frequent and yet subtle whispers, almost screams. Gravely indifferent to the whole holiday thing, it was easy for me to ignore the insanity while feeling settled in my own. Some of which I could rarely make out the commentary on, however, the meanings remained consistent. I was running off of little sleep and even less optimism these days, though I seemed to need more of both to capture your attention. Decidedly unattached, I hung back and waited for you more than I would have liked to. You would have moved on by now if you were in my shoes, but I didn’t have the heart for it. Instead I found myself even more hung up on the events of this time last year. In cyclical days proving rather monotonous, I dreamed of fleeing the scene often. And just the way I would do it. Even with such mild setbacks as surgeries, car repairs and heartbreak go; still you were all I deeply ached to know.