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Apr 2022
I hurried up to the window. It was all the way down stairs. The exhaust was at crescendo. By the time I arrived, you were not there. The exhaust fumes that plumed had left a trail in the air. It was cold that morning, I had walked out to the driveway in my underwear.

I came back inside and put some clothes on and tried to move on with my day. But it wasn’t that easy once the argument was there. Any task I would do would compose in the background like the noise of the county fair. Any stranger could become a target should my fuse were to despair.

I try to have more control than that but this morning I did not care. I made everyone around me; suffer with me at the cost of what you bared. It was your fault in the grief we shared  but I won’t admit it. Plus, you don’t care. You hurt me and now I hold the world hostage. Give me my heart back or I will.

I already lost it. And at what point is the damage I received Justified by the pain I inflict upon others? At what point do I look in the mirror and find the fault upon me?
Well if you have read this far you can already see.

-RSC
Self infliction and escalation we pay to hurry our death.
Ryan Seth Cole
Written by
Ryan Seth Cole  33/M/Auburn, Georgia
(33/M/Auburn, Georgia)   
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