you/me. its been 13 years and nothing changes.

you: yes. it is a little like giving birth. inhale! and push!

me: oi. you forget. i’ve done that. this is more like burning old love letters. liberating but sad.

you: remind me to nominate you sometime for some really big award one day for being able to say things well.

me: wah. no thanks.

you: okay. well, will you do the eulogy then at my funeral?

me: only if i get to die first.

you: unfair. i look better in black lace.

me: *dies laughing*