devoid of any poetic b*llsh*t

I made a mistake, because I could no longer control the fury slowly catching flame inside me. Maybe it was anger. Anger toward whom, it does not matter. Only the fact that things happened because of the presence of that somebody matters. I dare you to feel that pure unadulterated rush of emotions caused about by hopelessness and show me what you'd do. Tell me how you would handle comfort, any form of it, when you're faced by uncontrollable tears.

I am sorry for embracing comfort.

For trying to escape pain.

Because of that mistake I made, the cause of my despair, the one I ran away from to seek solace in somebody else, vanished . . .

causing greater despair, greater sorrow, and an unfathomable kind of

loneliness . . .

*sigh*