the way the bass line from that old track vibrated right through the floorboards and up into my teeth, a forgotten sensation, like a ghost note playing on my old molars, pulling me back to a particular spring , not the exact memory, but the texture of everything, the raw THIRST for something undefined that I carried then, it's not gone completely, but it’s softened, like a worn river stone, the sharp edges smoothed down by all the currents, the ones I thought would break me but just carved me into something wider, something that can hold more than just panic. my hips don't feel that kind of desperate energy anymore, thank god, they just ache from the gym, a different kind of ache, one I almost welcome, because it reminds me I’m actually DOING something, pushing against the inevitable, even if it's just a little bit, even if my younger sibling still looks like they just graduated and I found another grey hair by my earlobe this week, a little silver streak saying HEY.