“We aren’t supposed to be this way”

I come for the stories.  I don’t have to be happy for you.  And I'm not.  That’s my strength.  You read like bad dream.  It’s been windy in the canyon lately, and I’ve grown accustomed to using the parking brake.  Imagine yourself elsewhere.  One year.  They give you a cake.  You blow out the candles. 

This is the right way to be.