There are times I wish I could be like Kilgore.
Forget that I care to the point of hurting myself.
Forget that maturity and the mind develop so slowly.
Sliding into a corner and placing the heavy thoughts on the desk
is how I become Jacob Marley.
To see the dead piling up in front of me and blink with nonchalance.
But I can't.
"Nothing in the world smells like that," he says.
Perhaps the true meaning is that it can't be like that.
Expectations too high, product too low.
I'm failing. Myself and them.
And my heart will give out if my liver doesn't first.
There are times I wish I could be like Kilgore.
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