.
It’s like win­ter, in the mid­dle of an incred­i­bly cruel sum­mer.
Voices no longer drift­ing; I hear them clearly now, chastis­ing, con­demn­ing. Things never do change, do they? It wasn’t gonna be easy; I knew that, I know this still. Really, I must have gone into this with the stub­born eyes of an inno­cent, refus­ing to …