Enough White Lies Can Scorch The Earth

Everything You See, You Might Be Seeing For The Last Time.

I Hate That She's Hurt. I Hate That She's Been Hurt, By Me And By Others, Throughout The Entire Arc Of Her Life. I Barely Remember Pain, But When I See It In Her I Feel It In Myself, In Disproportionate Measure. It Creeps Into My Eyes, Stinging, Burning.

We Eat And Sleep And Shuffle Through The Fog, Walking A Marathon With No Finish Line, No Medals, No Cheering.

What's Wrong With People?" She Says, Almost Too Quiet For Me To Hear. "were They Born With Parts Missing Or Did It Fall Out Somewhere Along The Way?

A Month Ago There Was Nothing On Earth I Missed, Enjoyed, Or Longed For. I Knew I Could Lose Everything And Not Feel Anything, And I Rested Easy In That Knowledge. But I'm Growing Tired Of Easy Things.