The Twenty-Second One.
Evening, Subheading: Oh no, not I. I will survive. (Probably.) It can be an insufferable feeling when you realize that you will in fact survive most hardships. It's like time is an annoying know-it-all, and it knows ev-uh-ry-thing about everyone. What do you mean, this breakup didn't actually kill me? What do you mean, I have to keep living after someone I love has died? We want to scream crazy things like, "I'll never be happy again!" and then hold onto all of it like some sort of bizarre oath we've sworn. The pain we are in contorts reality until we believe that if we don't go to the grave miserable like we promised, we must be liars. We ask ourselves how much we could have really loved them if we are able to move on? Our level of pain is used to try to quantify loyalty, but to who? The people that love(d) us? As if they'd see this diagram, be happy to know we've frozen ourselves in a moment long past and say, "Yeah, wow , you reall...