That's your inability; to accept fate. Fate is not your life written down on stone like you want to believe, is your life being guided around by whispers and uncanny coincidences that are thrown around you, you just like to pretend you don't notice.
You need to talk, then talk. I'm sure the walls will listen, they listen to it all. They're austere and complete like you wish you were.
Alright, shed a tear or a million ones, drown your sorrows in every bottle, don't eat for days, watch horrible films with miserable endings or miserably happy endings, walk around the room looking for a book that will keep you away from the answer, pretend you don't want to know, keep writing and writing until you can't tell love from dust, what else there is to do?
Everyday, at 6 am, you go to bed and dream about the open sea and that wave of fate that will help you drown. There's hope for you yet.
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