At times I've shouted out unprovoked, at the world and you Just to see if the people around me react Sometimes I think they're all acting At times I'm scared that I'm acting too. Like My movements are stage directions? Was that a change in topic or a beat in a scene? Have I been taking my emotional cues from a script I wrote at sixteen? Maybe I just think about it all so much That that the fear stays close to all the ghosts I've touched Makes me question Was it love or just lust? Caked in blood or old rust? I don't know Don't we remember all the moments we remember the best Framed in poems and in pictures, sang aloud in refrains? Does this cycle of pain and disdain for the past Not work exactly the same? Maybe it's just as much about what comes our way as it is how we react Just as much about the things that we've still got as it is about the things we lack I know we won't always keep around those we feel we need— Some will fade into frames, some were born to leave— But if we're still here, and we still breathe I guess we've still got time to figure it out To know what to do To know how to feel Know the things that I've been making up inside my head, and To know what's real I want to believe that the way I am is just the way it goes For the things that came, not the things I chose To come I want to know if I had any control I want to know if it'd comfort me And if my heart just stops, pack my memories in it— I want to know all the love I've got And if my heart just stops, keep me alive for a minute— I want to know if a curtain drops