Fighting.
I'm ignoring the messages about my health and the worries everyone has about it and I'm keeping everything locked inside of me, tight and snug, hollow and sad like dollar store bibles or the empty promises of teenagers who don't know anything about the way the world works. I'm holding grudges and growing them like garden plants, watering them every day with a renewed anger and fertilized contempt. And I'm keeping my mouth shut in the silence of this car, fighting the sad stories that I want to tell.
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psychological warfare.
871 words.