Jocelyn White

Pfft, aren__ you optimistic,_ my mouth twists into an ugly grimace as I clench my fists. My throat dries from the rushed breathing as my vision blurs, tears drying, my blood pounds in my ears. __hinking as if this shit storm will ever blow over. Everyone__ got their scars and stories. This is yours.__hough I__l always be haunted, memories always resurface.

Yet I can__ bring myself to derail from her nor can I reject what I feel in the most primitive parts of me: hope. Because that__ what I feel with her, hope that the world can get better. Hope that a normal life can exist someday.

He's the navigator, he could probably find you a route to Hawaii underwater.

This is a cemetery of memories and I'm grave robbing.