I Am Very Late, But, Like, I Need A Long Dumb Road 2. Please, Jason And Tony Have Such A Connection On

I am very late, but, like, I need a Long Dumb Road 2. Please, Jason and Tony have such a connection on and off-screen, I need more of their interviews

When I lay on my soft mattress,

The crickets the only sounds

In the still night,

My mind journeys;

Regrets wash over me,

My heart aches.

The moon shines beyond my ceiling,

And I curl up in despair.

Six feet below the ground,

Someone rests for eternity.

Then I begin to wonder,

What of their last moments?

I wonder,

Was it loneliness they had to bear?

Paralyzed on the bed

Yearning to join the chorus of laughter outside?

Did they lie on the bed,

Hearing joyous melodies

And having no ability to join?

Was it unbearable?

Did they watch everyone walk pass

Not giving them a single glance?

Those moments that would be the last,

Was it filled with all-consuming hurt?

Had we been kinder,

Better,

Nicer,

Could it have been alleviated?

It's midnight,

I lie awake,

Thinking,

Hating myself.

I lie awake in wonder,

Did they loathe me?

That in their death bed,

I had abandoned them.

In their final minutes,

Did they cry silently?

Fully awake,

Yet unable to move an inch?

In the quiet night,

Everyone peacefully sleeping,

Did they weep

And give up?

Thinking that they will not be missed?

Thinking of their own regrets?

Thinking of what-ifs?

Thinking if they were good enough?

Were their last moments filled

With the same pain I share only a quarter of?

Or was it a peaceful goodbye

With silent wishes of a happy life?

A tear slips down my cheek,

Apologies resting on my tongue,

For only spirits to hear.

I cry regrets.

I should have done more.

Should have been better.

Selfish and cruel I am, so,

Perhaps it should have been me.

I think,

As I see pieces of you in strangers,

And fragments of happiness in my memories,

Yes, perhaps it should have been me.

I lay on my bed,

Thoughts chasing sleep away,

I dig my fingers on my scalp,

My eyes shut tight.

I writhe

To shoo the thoughts away.

Maybe it's your spirit,

Wishing vengeance upon me.

But I desperately hope,

You wear white,

And watch over me

With the same gentle embrace as I grew up in.

I love you,

That much is true.

I'm sorry,

I couldn't show it enough.

I love you,

You might doubt it.

I'm sorry,

It wasn't enough for me.

Tony Revolori

Y'all the way Airk actually knows Dove's real name

I need a Graydon scene pack

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