but because i refuse to cry again at this hotel,
i will pretend that i am someone else.
another person, possibly male this time
who is not here, who is not held accountable for anything,
and who smiles as he walks,
confident of everthing.
because i have a friend in another country who left everything
just because she could.
because i have a friend somewhere in the ocean who committed
himself to an organization because he knew that sacramento
would give nothing but dead winters.
because i am alive.
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