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there is a silent, resilient pleasure in the depths of chronic pain. after time, it becomes less about identifying the cause and more about understanding it in order to protect it; solidify it. keep it near. after time, the pain becomes much like a heartbeat; an identifier of life and a divider from death.

sometimes, in my darkest moments i can’t help but cry indefinitely and uncontrollably. my tears aren’t shed for past relationships, or those i’ve lost. i’m not crying because i am alone or for the choices i’ve made. my tears are for the irony of the life i can’t escape; for the imprisonment of freedom and the bars that cage me from the intimacy of others.

i am captivated by the infinite capability that minds have and in all my experience, it’s the most dangerous headspaces that are worth the exploration. they allow you to believe you’re in control the whole time, aware of every choice you make and yet you left yourself at the door when you whispered “hello” and took your first step inside their world. before long, shattered glass and broken chandeliers become beautiful; open wounds and internal bleeding becomes resilient; and watching someone take their last breath becomes powerful and addicting. before you know it, you become the mind that others want to be intoxicated by. before you know it, you’re the feared. the monster. the criminal.

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