picture me a missing person. i think i’d like to have my photo on milk cartons, to have your pity and never let it reach me. i want you to know there’s nothing you can do for me, really, and learn to live with that. pray for my family. because i think if i could be anything, i’d like to be an unanswered question and i’d like for the what-if’s to haunt you and it should hurt, but the ache should be dull and you should never stop wondering what you could have done and you should always come up empty. empty-handed. empty hearted. the gap will be filled, but you’ll still feel a chill wash over you every time you see black-dyed hair.