justify yourself; that is the heartbeat of this house. this house, for no matter what any plaques say this is not my home, that I haven't found yet, or maybe that's just because it's inside of me, behind my eyes. justify yourself justify yourself justify yourself
justify
just ify
just die!,
dearie
dear? is that love? if this is love then love is hell, and i want zero part of love or hell.
i build and build and reconstruct myself for weeks and I AM FINE and it takes one fist for me to be shit again to pulp from Another New Development! into shit again. and shit is the worst, because it is not even nothing; how infinately preferable it would be to be nothing, for nothing need not be justified, nothing does not crave from a deficiency, does not collapse into nothing for nothing has nothing to lose, it is nothing; how infinately preferable is Nothing to something unjustifiable?
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