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The dust had settled to the ground I was on. It was one hell of a year, I thought. I'd been perpetually short a couple hundred bucks, but if anything my luck was surely looking up. The ground was breaking where I was standing. I didn't need a crash course on immediate landing--had an oxygen mask, directional diagrams, but I kept them to the left, pointed my compass ahead. Finally started tying knots that was suit me. I had dressed myself and left my delusions in the trunk of a car I parked out on the front lawn, in case I need address them about my solutions. And I was tying all the right kinds of knots. Ones I was certain wouldn't slip if I happened to fall in the trunk of a car I parked out on the front lawn. I called a tow truck and told them it'd been there since dawn. I was rehearsing the best version of myself in the mirror when I realized I pronounced my lines loud and clear. Without the doubt in my eyes. Without the twist of my tongue. I swear that you'd have thought I quit taking the things I was on. But in truth, I had to bury the past. If I looked, I couldn't tell you where it was in the grass under the roots I dug up just to notice the rust and turn my shoulder to whoever I was.