The body exhibits pain to relay the message of function.
I sat crawled up for as long as i could stand it, And when i got bored of it- I walked to the cupboard and poured until the bottle ran dry. Whiskey. With its burning magic. To shut up my sensors. I sipped each burn as if it was a lifeline. And it reminded me of you. Kissing you. Running out of breath, Knowing there is more.
I hate you- for my brain will forever think of your kiss embedded with that burn.
I don’t plan on quitting whiskey. You’re just easier to give up on.
People like me - (whatever the **** that means) accept change as a given.
The fuckkkk? Accepting change? It happens. It doesn’t actually ask permission. It does its ******* thing and just is. What it is. It doesn’t ask you for your opinionated opinion. It does the deed. It flips your existence and doesn’t let a shred of possibility for a return of what it was.
People like me know that fighting it is pointless. When Hulk punches you in the gut - you crawl to suppress the pain. You don't tell him what you think of the execution of set punch. Because one is enough. You teach yourself to breath through that ridiculous hurt. You get up. And thank him for not punching you again. And you accept that you might have an internal bleeding. Medical attention is advisable.
Change happens. It knocks your lights out. Afterwards - you turn them back on. And wait for the next wave. Because one thing is certain- it’s coming.