All about deviant love, same love, different love. Darkness, light....or lack of.

I didn’t know what pain was.

Pain isn’t sitting in your room, the music blasting into the earphones ruining your eardrums; you pretending the world has stopped at that exact moment, because your heart’s been metaphorically ripped to shreds and society doesn’t understand you and your sexuality doesn’t fit and your sailor tongue has capsized and you’re unravelled and you’re too tired to try and save it.

Pain isn’t watching your friend walk away or your dog lie on your favourite seat chewing on your favourite heel then throwing it back at you like some tasteless bone. Because if you’re going to lose one friend then you might as well lose them all and your arms are sore and your chest hurts, but night is coming and somehow you’re sure you’ll remember how to breathe by then.

Pain isn’t sitting in the kitchen with your sister sobbing in the corner…

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