“I started smoking recently. I hate the taste, but I crave their warmth, and I have to admit…they make 2AM feel a lot less lonely.”

My blood is fighting against me.

I can feel it squirm throughout the day, a sharpness that begs for reciprocation.

I’m burning up all of my second chances for just a few moments of relief.

It’s nothing new, waking up to dried lengths of crimson.

It’s nothing new.

~And yet~

I take some solace in the fact that it still hurts.

Because that’s my only proof.

It’s undeniable proof…that I’m still human…

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