There is no normality.

How do you stop cradling your explosive thoughts because of your fear of the aftermath?

How do you rectify a thought that wasn’t committed by you?

How are you supposed to find its cause if all you know is that you don’t want to hear it again?

If normality existed, I’m the furthest away from it. It’s like a romantic love affair really; you’d happily sip the poison from a hand that feeds you because it’s familiar. You like familiar.


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