I wish I could say that I've emerged from all this with a new sense of self.

I want to show that I've shed my burden like an old skin. I've been keeping my head above water, I'll say. 

I'd like to tell everyone that I was burned and burned until I was nothing but ash, and rose from the detritus as a phoenix, but I've had no epiphanies worth noting. I never did shed my winter skin, and I'm still drowning.

I'm still a pile of ash.

how come he's the one to let me down 

how come they glow different in the evening?

how come they stare distant into daylight?

like its all alright