miss Ray. always miss Ray. Detroit in February is its own kind of hell. the sky is gray and the ground is gray and you start to wonder if you're just trapped in a black and white movie where everyone else knows the plot. sponsor's gone. feels like i'm just supposed to keep going. keep showing up. keep saying the words. but what if the words don't mean anything anymore? what if i'm just mouthing them like some kind of robot? I hate this. I hate the cold. I hate the quiet. I just want him back.