There was a hopelessness that permeated my world, emanating from my skin, soaking into all my organs. My stomach no longer bothered to call attention to itself. Instead, it swallowed its growls, seeking nourishment in emptiness. Except I am not hopeless. I am filled with hope. And this hope is killing me, eating my consciousness from the inside out. My heart begs me to believe that everything is okay, but it is continually destroyed. My brain knows that there will be many others, but I find myself refusing to let go.
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