Wednesday, July 8, 2015

fuck tomorrow

It was necessary. He knew that, but it didn’t help exactly.

It would only be moments in time, a brief series of unpleasant procedures. It would not last forever; it wouldn’t last all that long, really. He understood this perfectly well. Again, it was no help.

No one involved meant any harm; no malice was to be had. (The uselessness of this fact should by now be predictable.)

Unfortunately, it wasn’t happening to him. The one suffering did not understand, would not understand, could not understand.

Fuck tomorrow, he sighed in his mind and wished for a cigarette.

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