Reading a thought catalog article while devouring a piece of chicken legs in the dark, daughter's youth playing in the background, it came to me.
Typing this with my oil-stained, meat-smelling fingers, tears welling up on the corners of my eyes, my mouth parched dry, I still don't want to accept that fact, but it is too much to ignore.
It hurts to admit this, forcing myself for a long time now that its not what it seems to be.
But its not.
This time its not.
Everything I've felt is true. And now I am lost.