I just can't shake it tonight. The fact of it. Whether it was today or soon, it killed her. This life, the way we've been mangled to fit into it. Then a divorce, not enough meaningful 'wins', no feelings but lousy ones - broken, failing, angry, frightened, powerless - with no end in sight. I have been breathing mostly the same air as her. What's the half life of existential poison like that? I want it out of me.
Guess: There is no cure for living but to live more?
"All this risk, this hope. It's beautiful."