Dinosaur With Headphones

Should've known better than to watch 12 Years A Slave again. I saw it in the theater the day it came out, on a mild cool orange and yellow autumn afternoon in Minneapolis.

I guess in some way crying my eyes out makes me feel more alive, despite having been conditioned to be ashamed of my tears. Men aren't supposed to cry and all that bullshit.

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Next month it'll be four years since I've heard her voice. I remember the very last words I heard, where I was and the sound of everything.

Four goddamn years.