Holly, maybe it’s a clue that something’s strange when you’re lying in pajamas in the rain and screaming nonsense. Holly, my sandals are solid on the street while you’re stuck in stocking feet, soaked on the sidewalk. Holly, your closet full of turtlenecks (all black) made me think it was just an act. I’ve been so stupid. But, Holly, I swear I’ll take you seriously now, though I wonder exactly how I should approach you when all the spaces in your head become like border lines instead around your dormitory bed. I’ll get you past them then, this time for real. And what does this mean to you? I know you’re not in any shape to say. What does this mean to me? I know that when you’re pushing me away, you think you’re doing me a favor. Well, you’re someone that I’ll stay for now. Holly, this waiting room is all I’ve seen. I’m thumbing through a children’s magazine to curb my worry. But, Holly, I’m still the one you cannot drive away. By your side I swore I’d stay, and I’m still right here. I’ve had this blanket since I was born. It’s all chewed up, it’s all torn. I know it will not keep you warm, but maybe you’ll see its ratty charm when you can heal. Chorus.