(insert some sappy-assed witty phrase)
Because there aren’t words to talk about it. Because it sounds stupid and predictable to talk about it. Because I hate all that crap. Because I think its useless. Because it doesn’t help anything. Because nothing actually helps it. Because I said so. Because I don’t have to. Because it’s a choice. Because it doesn’t really matter anyway. Because longing is pointless and painful. Because I hate pointless and painful. Because it still makes me mad. Because I still can’t find one single person who actually knows what I mean. Because it doesn’t really mean anything.
Everyone dies and until that happens we are all just living our lives. Everyone exactly the same. We are all the same. Strangely enough there is a small degree of comfort in that.