...
like most silent sicknesses, creeps in through the cracks that sleep love contentment time failed to fill. The most believable of lies, unhappiness is not an emotion. It's a credible source. A voice I can't turn down. An unregistered pain, undetected until it gathers in corners-- never collecting dust, but rather growing, multiplying, preparing for it's return. It convinces me I am not...
Because I can't afford the weak alternative. ...
