Even just a little glimpse, through the cracked doors and shuttered windows and general dumbness of this mean, hateful show: That's worth something, right?
I just wish that was a feeling we could send ourselves, back through time. If you could know what it's like to be okay, before you actually figure out that you are okay. But that's a little like sending yourself plans for a time machine: You have to tell the story to get to the end of the story. You have to drop the word, before you can get to the end of your sentence.