Is it better to rip out your own heart and stare at it knowing now that it beats true, seeing it with your own eyes, for the whole world to see, for that brief moment before it all goes dark?
Or to live a life forgetting it is there? Telling yourself you can wait. Just this small lie. Next time. No one was hurt this time. There’s still time. You don’t have to love her. An ordinary life IS extraordinary. There is still time. You couldn’t have helped him. Not everyone is yours to save. You had to put your own needs first. She doesn’t need to know. She left.
Sometimes we are chosen, and sometimes we are the sum of our choices.
But either way.
This all ends.
Laughs and Lobotomies 