August 8th, Year of the Corpse

The view from behind the iron bars is limited. I hover over giving a fuck. It is better to hide from Joseph than it is to face him, even if it means my own interests suffer. He has proven that, for the time being, he is the stronger of the two. I cannot run faster than him, and my objections to his presence lack force and volume.

At all times, I acknowledge that The Corpse’s pursuit of my affection is criminal, but this doesn’t stop me from asking: how wrong is he? How many would choose to take a passive path, when what they experience contains an intensity rarely felt? Do I judge him with such severity because I feel very little for him, and would I be more forgiving if I loved him?

It is true that my views on love are antiquated. They set me up to be thoroughly disappointed. But, to give any effort, after what I have experienced in relationships, would only prove that there is something inherently wrong with me.

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August 8th, Year of the Corpse

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