Split

It’s the end of the day.

I feel, big fucking surprise, very split on it all.

He told me not to worry about where it came from, only to worry about what I would put it toward.

Easy for him to say. He didn’t even need it. I’m not sure if he ever needed it.

I wasn’t going to put it toward anything. Quite the opposite, actually, I was going to put it toward nothing.

He could go fuck himself.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out what I knew he was expecting in return, a small locket emptied just a couple days before.

It was an easy trade, physically, but mentally it fucked us both.

-D.R Breshears

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