Photo by Jez Timms on Unsplash
Everything will be okay, you say.
Will it? I mumble.
What? You raise your eyebrows while carelessly lighting the cigarette between your lips.
Soon your face hides behind smoke and the winter fog. I search for your eyes, trying to figure out if you really meant what you said. If you really believed that everything was going to be alright. I keep wonder, does anything ever gets alright.
It does not.
That’s what I have known my entire life. We just learn to live with pain. We become good at hiding pain. Or we just learn to live with sedatives. Any sedatives that we can grab with our weakened fingers – cigarettes, alcohol, sex, word. Anything, as long as it helps to hide the pain.
You know what’s funny? We do nothing to ward off that pain. We don’t want to kill it. We…
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