Dying alone has its appeal. Quiet, no fuss.
I hate fuss.
My world is in order. It has to be.
A balancing act between coping and denying
The very fabric of what it means to live is tinged with betrayal and fear
Trust is a commodity that I haven't the luxury to retain
You know who you are
Shutting the door is easier
No need to see what's been left behind it