Take A Person’s Memories, And You Change

Sometimes,” He Says, Sliding His Arm Across My Shoulders, “people Just Want To Be Happy, Even If It’s Not Real.

A Sob Racks My Body Again, And He Wraps His Arms Around Me So Tightly I Find It Difficult To Breathe, But It Doesn't Matter. My Dignified Weeping Gives Way To Full-on Ugliness, My Mouth Open And My Face Contorted And Sounds Like A Dying Animal Coming From My Throat. If This Continues I Will Break Apart, And Maybe That Would Be Better, Maybe It Would Be Better To Shatter And Bear Nothing.

I Know That Change Is Difficult, And Comes Slowly, And That It Is The Work Of Many Days Strung Together In A Long Line Until The Origin Of Them Is Forgotten.

No Factions? A World In Which No One Knows Who They Are Or Where They Fit? I Can't Even Fathom It. I Imagine Only Chaos And Isolation.

Living Without Virtues Is To Live Divorced From Society, Seperated From The Most Important Thing In Life, Community.