FAULTY HEARTS REMEDY
You know… this blog really wasn’t, even indirectly, meant to be depressing at all. Angry? Yes. It’s kinda funny. Depressing? Is just depressing. But what now?
I found myself murmuring these thoughts through the indifference of the keyboard, while I watched my dog sunken within a pile of blanket like a flaccid lump of meat, the very life in him crippled by the exhaustion of every hard-earned heartbeat. His heart murmurs, the doctor said. Why does it sounds like an expression you can put on a Mother’s Day card for God’s sake… And what about an overgrown, sensitive big heart? Fuck, could’ve gotten someone laid on a Thursday night even without game. To shit with these expressions…
In reality, you can actually die of a broken heart.
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