Fuck.

The queen is dead, long live the queen.

She warn't no queen, just a chicken.

But she was my friend, and Emily and Victor and Caleb's friend, and a friend to squirrels and cats and wild birds.

There is no purpose.

There is no reason.

There ain't no fucking way we get out alive.

We love each other and we love things and maybe they love us back and then they die or we die and its over.

Unless it's not, but either way...doesn't change.

She was alive. She was good and I'm sorry.

I'm sorry a lot.

I know she wasn't Palestine...she wasn't Uigher, she wasn't Jhamal...she was my friend.