Only words of angst and longing bring me comfort, if a chest ripped open can be soothing - proof of life is a relief, I suppose. You couldn't feel this pain when you're dead.

Devouring digital pages of tension and tears, with sure-fire happy endings, or at least compatible melancholy. What a relief it must be to have life's plan ready written. The monotony a balm for frazzled nerves, torn lips, raw knuckles.