malcolm is cuddled in his favourite sweater, that has become my favourite aswell, and not only for sentimental reasons but for plain old comfort. the months of this past year are neatly pinned on my wall. with each picture, i remember each month. i remember. i put away everything else that reminded me. in a box, in my closet. nothing's closure enough because sometimes i doubt i'll ever be able to get closure, but hey.. it was a step. forwards, backwards, which way i don't know, but atleast i'm not standing still.